Hungry Eyes
by Mistiec
Summary: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.
1. Chapter One

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigate a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.   
Genre: Family friendship, Angel/Cordelia sexual tension, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Fred   
Rating: R – for sexual and adult situations – it takes place at a STRIP joint, what did you expect?   
Spoilers: Billy   
Archive: http://www.wolverineandrogue.com/mistiec 

--   
Chapter One 

The newspaper was plopped upon her desk unceremoniously, and Cordelia Chase barely looked at it, too involved in scribbling her name down the last of the hotel bills before finally giving the attention Wesley Wyndham Price wanted. 

"What's this?" she asked curiously, picking up the newspaper, leaning back as her friend and boss leaned over the desk, pointing out the section he had circled. 

"There's something you should see." 

His voice was concerned, a little more than musing, and Cordelia narrowed her eyes, taking in a breath and skimming the passage. The metro section of the Los Angeles Times rarely had articles of merit, but they were worth perusing at times. 

Still, this time the Seer was unimpressed. "This looks just like a regular old murder, Wesley." 

"To the untrained eye, yes," Wesley confirmed, sliding into the chair opposite her desk and leaning forward, face pensive, consumed with thought. "But you're forgetting the name." 

Cordelia gave him a sigh, but obeyed, highlighted bangs falling forward, obstructing her vision before she pushed them back to peer into the paper. "The victim was identified as Jennifer Suddage. She was found on 6th and Flower, in an alley, a gunshot wound in her head." Cordelia's eyes flittered above the line of the paper to regard Wesley, her heart suddenly taking in a pounding. "Wait. Not the Jennifer we once helped?" 

Wesley's gaze was somber as he quietly nodded. 

Cordelia closed her eyes, suddenly tired, letting the paper flop down in front of her, memories of the young black woman they had once freed from a vampire flitting through her. 

Young, a little misguided. A little wild, but nice. Tired. Cynical. 

And hopeful, when they were done with her. 

Dead? 

Sad resignation caressed her features, and Cordelia Chase, usually not one for emotional outpourings, felt her insides give just a little. Jennifer had been safe… she had been… 

Biting her lip, she reached forward, body suddenly feverish with recollection of how that vision had coursed through her. 

And there had been so much fear… 

"Witnesses report no screaming, Jennifer was on her way home from a party at The Dancehall." 

Her eyebrows knit together as her gaze caught his, still unsure as to his meaning. "The male strip joint?" 

"Mmm." He nodded, taking in a sigh as he leaned back into his chair. 

"What's wrong?" The dark form filled the doorway, and Cordelia gave Angel, the brooding, hulking vampire with a soul, a sad shrug, pushing away from the desk and moving past him, into the other room. 

"Wesley will fill you in." 

-- 

Angel felt nervous as the Seer moved away, leaving him in the office with Wesley. 

Her eyes had been sad, cold, and that was never a good sign. 

With a set of pursed lips and a grim countenance, he crossed his arms and looked to Wesley to explain. 

The Englishman held an expression of equal grimness, as he slumped back in his chair, licking his lips. 

"What's wrong, Wes?" 

Wesley took a breath, and began with, "Do you remember Jennifer?" 

Angel frowned, trying to place the name, and sorting through Cordelia's vision aftermaths to figure them out. Finally, the visions shifted, and one came into focus. 

"Jennifer- with the slave vampire?" 

"The very one. She's dead." 

The words were so very final, and Angel didn't like them at all. Swallowing down hard, he only continued to look at Wesley, as if by continuing his stare he would somehow make more meaning out of the last two words. 

"Dead." Wesley indicated to the newspaper, and Angel strode forward, picking it up and skimming the passage. "Shit." 

"Indeed." 

Angel closed his eyes, shaking his head. She had been a lost soul, who at the end of their mission with her had come away smiling, happy and hopeful for a regular life. 

His first curled around the paper, wrinkling it within the confines of his fist. 

"We're looking into this." 

He expected an argument, at least some assertion from Wesley that it was actually Wesley's call to make. 

But instead he got a heavy sigh as an answer, and a nod. "Of course." 

-- 

It had taken only a few months for Winnifred Burkle to get reacquainted with the wonders that were computers. 

With her head for hard science and her love for all things technical and logical, she had taken the wonders of the Internet and the ease of networking like a fish to water, and Cordelia Chase once commented that Fred was coming close to being labeled a junkie. 

With her form hunched over the keyboard, punching away, glasses glinting in the monitor and eyes shining as the information passed over them, Gunn couldn't help but smile. 

He had to give the girl her due; he had yet to meet a single person who could quite match the Fredness that was Fred. 

"Anything?" 

"More than we anticipated," she remarked, offering him a small smile as he came forward, plopping down the files and settling himself next to her, leaning over her shoulder to get a better look at the screen. 

"How so?" Wesley moved into the office, his tone distracted as he held the various articles in his hand, rifling through the pages idly. 

"Well for one it's a sex club," Cordelia offered a tired smile as she stepped into the room, Angel quickly following behind her. 

Wesley found himself distracted at the possessive hand on Cordelia's shoulder, almost unconscious and certainly noticed by no one. 

It had bypassed his notice until little Fred had pointed out the growing affection between the pair. 

It was something to be concerned with… but not now. 

"A sex club?" 

"Oh yeah. Get this, women get their jollies there by hard-bodied, able and willing young men. Escorts. Rich young, and incredibly posh." 

"Male hookers?" 

"By the dozen," Cordelia said to Gunn, as the young man frowned, the increasingly disturbing imagery rifling through his brain making her smile. "Not so much fun when it's YOUR sex, is it?" 

"Male ho's," he muttered. 

"Jennifer was at a sex club?" The point seemed a little unbelievable to even Wesley. 

"It's legitimately a regular Chippendale type of place," Angel said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "But my sources tell me that the real income comes from the high bidding and the watching." 

"I found the website," Fred announced, turning the monitor carefully, pointing to the image of a highly developed young man smiling. "Regular location information and stuff, right ya'll? But look, you just find the hot spot," she reached forward and carefully pressed the mouse so the curser tapped at groin of the man, "And this comes up." 

Gunn's frown grew deeper. "Uh… Fred? Wanna tell me what you were doin' clicking on that dude's nether regions in the first place?" 

Fred blushed profusely, pushing her glasses up her face, and stammering, "Lucky guess, Ah… guess. Anyway, here's what came up." 

The computer whirred as the page downloaded, and Cordelia's eyes widened, suddenly moving to cover Angel's eyes with her palm, the other moving to cover her own mouth. 

"That guy's got girth." 

Angel gave her a pained smile as he plucked her hand from her face. "Hookers anonymous." 

"And there's more." Fred reached forward, taking a stack of printouts from the computer printer, handing them to Wesley, who was doing his best to avoid the imagery on the computer. Gunn was just as busy shuffling. 

"I feel ashamed for my gender," he announced, burying his face into his folded arms. 

Fred caught Cordelia's smile and smirked herself. 

"Jennifer wasn't the first." 

"She was the first murder," Fred confirmed, nodding, "But disappearances from the club, lots of them." 

Wesley's eyes were glinting as he passed the papers to Angel, rifling through them one by one, taking in a breath as the Ex-Watcher and Vampire exchanged gazes. 

"More than five unexplained Missing Persons… two strippers and the rest… females…" 

"What about income?" Cordelia asked, leaning over Angel's arm to scan the articles herself. 

"It doesn't make sense…" Gunn lifted his head to view Wesley curiously. 

"Men subjecting themselves to that sort of shit- Damn right it don't make-" 

"I mean the randomness of it all. All races, all genders. All recent… " Wesley moved around the desk, hand settling on Fred's shoulder, making Gunn frown slightly. "And they all trace back to the club?" 

"Yeap. All within the last four months. Jennifer was the only one found though. Gun shot, that's pretty random." 

"We talked to her friends, they didn't see her past ten." 

"It doesn't make sense." 

"We're going to make sense out of it," Angel announced, tossing the pile on the table and pushing out an unneeded breath. "Ideas?" 

"I think it's pretty obvious." Everyone turned to stare at the Seer, who was seated in one wooden chair, chin resting on her palm. 

"Care to tell us how, princess?" Gunn asked dryly. 

"Duh. I go undercover, pretend to be a rich elite snob- not exactly stretching that- pick myself up a dancer and you know… investigate." 

The grin was almost sheepish. 

Wesley rolled his eyes and Gunn once again looked offended on behalf of his gender. 

Angel just crossed his arms and glared. "No." 

"It was a joke. Kinda." Hazel eyes met dark brown and there was a slight battle of wills between the Vampire in the Seer, before the brunette former cheerleader blushed slightly, looking away. 

"Actually, Cordelia has a point." That was offered by meek Fred, who shrunk back slightly as three hostile male eyes focused on her. "Well, Ah mean… Cordy right, we have ta… investigate and that… well ya'll don't have any other plan!" 

"Cordelia isn't going to go in there to pick up a male stripper, you do that on your own time," Gunn announced. 

"Or not at all," Angel snapped, narrowing his eyes at her. 

Wesley was silent, thoughts floating through his head before he finally spoke, "Fred's right." Upon Angel's abrupt whirl, he took a breath, fully preparing to face the vampire's some times irrational anger when it came to the pretty young Seer. "We know next to nothing, and we can't very well have Fred do it, can we?" 

Cordelia straightened, looking a little more than happy. "So I get to do it?" 

"Why can't I do it?" Fred asked, more curious than offended. 

"Because you can't," Wesley snapped. 

"Not exactly fittin' rich bitch, Freddie," Gunn said, patting her hand slightly. 

"HEY!" Cordelia huffed. 

"She's NOT doing it!" 

"I am too!" 

There was almost an imperceptible growl that came from Angel as he whirled on Cordelia, who now stood straight, tall, eyes blazing and completely defiant. 

The Seer wasn't afraid as she crossed her arms and glared at her best friend. "Angel, this is work, okay? STOP with the possessive crap." 

"You're not going to be 'soothing' anyone's ass off for WORK, Cordelia." Angel snapped back. Wesley wondered if perhaps he should have reminded the pair others were actually in the room, but when Gunn just slid back into his chair with a resigned expression, he let out a sigh as well. "It's too dangerous. We don't know what's going on in there." 

"Angel, think rationally, okay? Joking aside, we need someone in there, and unless one of you wants to play male stripper-" 

"OF COURSE!" Wesley burst, suddenly jolting up out of his chair. "That would be perfect!" 

Fred gave him a wide-eyed expression. "You want to be a stripper, Wesley?" 

"Oh, he's had the practice," Angel muttered, hands on his hips as he gave the Watcher an exasperated glare. 

Wesley never stopped to ponder what he meant as he turned, shaking his head. "Not me… but if we had a stripper AND a lady client we'd be covered from both sides. Both circles. You see?" 

"So we've got both asses covered," Gunn mused, nodding, and grinning. "I like how you think, English." 

"You really think you could pull it off, Gunn?" Angel asked dryly. 

Fred colored at the thought. 

"Not him, you." 

"HIM!?" The outburst was Cordelia's, as she pushed herself in front of Angel and shook her head emphatically. "Not on your life." 

"Cordelia-" 

"Stay out of it, Angel." Cordelia dug her nails into Angel's forearm, making him wince, but wisely, he kept silent as she sent an icy glare Wesley's way. "You want Angel to pretend to be a hooker? Have you SEEN him strip?" 

"I'm sure they give lessons." 

"Hello! Curse!" Cordelia tugged on Angel's arm, hands now moving to his chest as she pressed at it emphatically. "He can't do it? Cause the… girls will… paw and… he's all eunuch-y –" 

"Okay, for the last time, NOT a Eunuch!" Angel sputtered. 

Wesley rolled his eyes, coming forward. "Cordelia, I hardly believe Angel's curse will come into play with some dancing." 

"Naked dancing!" 

"Angel would be dancing naked?" Little Fred looked almost starry eyed. Gunn just sighed and shuffled again. 

"Cordelia-" 

"I'd like to point out that I haven't exactly agreed to this," Angel interjected. 

Cordelia pounced on that. "See? Not agreed. Not doing it. No way, no how- besides," she muttered, slumping into her chair with a wave of her manicured hand. "He'd make a terrible stripper." 

Angel's head swiveled and Wesley smirked, letting Angel's wounded pride do the rest. 

"What? I could be a stripper!" 

"Oh, please. XANDER made a better one." 

"Your ex was a stripper?" Gunn asked, suddenly curious. 

"It was a long- that's not the point-" 

"Right. The point is you think I can't be a stripper! Look, if Xander can- he really was a stripper?" he asked, and finally shook the question off, poking a finger in Cordelia's direction. "If Xander can be a stripper, I CAN be a great…. Vampire… stripper." 

She gave him a 'hmmph' before looking away uncaringly. 

Angel growled, turning away from the Seer and almost shouting to Wesley, "When do we start?" 

Wesley just gave a contented shrug, and winked at little Fred. 

Those two would die if they ever found out how predictable they really were. 

-- 

There was something to be said for the reigning princess' power over Angel Investigations. 

If Cordelia Chase wasn't happy, NO ONE was happy. 

Charles Gunn shook his head, leaning against the truck as he waited outside The Dancehall, the twinkling lights making his head hurt just a little, as the giggles and chirps of all the women flocking into it with their high heels and little skirts filtered out loud and clear along with the crappy music. 

Truthfully, Gunn had his doubts. For one, Angel knew nothing about dancing, and what, they were just gonna take one look at the pretty face and say, 'have the job, the dancing's on us'? Not likely. 

That, and Cordelia had a point. Stiff as a rail rod Angel would make a terrible stripper. He grimaced. And Cordelia's continuing whining about that fact wasn't making this any easier. 

Thankfully, her particular place in this whole assignment required she keep away until Angel was nice and established, and that meant only he and Wesley, the assigned 'pimps' on brigade, had come to try to get Angel the job as the 'hooker boy'. 

He sighed, peering toward the door and shuffling his feet, eyes glancing around the nightspot with the valet parking and velvet covered doors. 

This was definitely not your average, mission. 

How the hell were they going to make Angel a hooker boy? 

-- 

"They're not back yet." 

Fred's eyes were quickly going to go cross from watching Cordelia. The Seer was wearing a path across the lobby, and it wasn't a nice, sensible pattern either, but incredibly irregular, with circles and shifts, and Fred was getting slightly dizzy from the pacing. 

"They've only been gone half an hour, Cordelia." 

"This is bad, bad, idea," Cordelia muttered, rubbing at her head, blowing her breath out. "And you heard it here first, Fred." 

"Ah'll remember that." Fred ran her hands through her dark hair, curiously distracted as she pulled the tresses into a ponytail and continued to observe the fidgety Cordelia. 

"Cordy." 

The Seer paused, looking at Fred with a tightened glare. "What?" 

"It's not lahk he's goin' ta be a stripper for real." 

"That's not the point!" Cordelia blew her breath out, eyes lolling up to the ceiling. "I just… Angel's… not exactly the … screw around with women sort…" 

"But he's a vampire, right? From what Ah read, they're sensual, prolly-" 

"He's not your regular old vampire, Fred!" Cordy snapped, running her hands through the short highlighted bangs. "I just… it's my fault. I played with his pride. I mean… geez… if I had told him, he'd make a GREAT stripper would he have said no?" 

Actually, Fred wondered if Cordelia had said THAT would Angel had offered to give the Seer a private show, but wisely, she kept her mouth shut. 

It had been a little disconcerting at first, to view the tumultuous relationship between Angel and Cordelia, to truly ascertain exactly what it was, but then again, she related that was probably because neither knew what it was themselves. 

They played these little roles half the time, all under the pretext of 'family', but it was clear to everyone in Angel Investigations they held a relationship whose lines were increasingly blurry. 

It raised a certain amount of jealousy in Fred, at first, and later it had been replaced with resignation and a bit of sympathy for both. They were each other's blind spots, and being that kind of confused was never fun. 

"Well at least you can keep your eye on him when you go as the rich bitch," she pointed out. 

Cordelia paused, and seemed to take the statement into consideration, before a smile floated upon her face and she turned. "Right!" 

Fred nodded. 

"I mean, there's nothing really to worry about because I'll be there every night… making with the richness and the snobness… it'll be like coming home," there was a wistful sigh buried in the statement, as Cordelia flashed another 'I'm a princess and I damn well know it' grin. "Besides, we don't even know if he's going to get the job!" 

"I got the job." Angel strode into the room, a grim frown on his face as he walked through the lobby and up the stairs. 

Cordelia's eyes widened, and Fred looked curiously to the two men who were shrugging off coats in the lobby. 

"Well?" 

"Took one look and said 'Thank you very much, but can you dance?'" Wesley dutifully informed. "And then after one number I realized they were talking about Angel." 

Gunn snorted and Cordelia grinned. 

"Anyway," Wesley cleared his throat. "They say they're willing to start him off as a floor boy, train him at night, and work his way up with a routine." 

"Floor boy?" 

"You know, serving the drinks in the speedos and bowtie," Gunn said, shaking his hips as he demonstrated. "You know, ladies pinching butts and offering dollars for a brush of the family jewels?" 

"I think I'm going to be sick," Cordelia muttered, turning away and moving for the stairs. 

Gunn looked almost hurt, pausing mid step. "Shit. I thought I was doing well." 

"You were," Fred offered. 

Gunn grinned proudly. "Thank you Fred." 

She gave him a nod and turned back to Wesley. "So when does he start?" 

Wesley blew out his breath. "Tonight. The owners were… quite adamant about it…" 

"You sound suspicious," Gunn remarked, settling down beside the Texan waif, throwing an arm casually around her shoulders. 

"A little," Wesley admitted, settling down on the other side, and throwing the arm off, leaving Fred sandwiched between the two men. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out soon enough." 

"Yeap." 

"Yeap." 

Wesley gave them both a smile, and a tired sigh. "Yeap." 

-- 

Cordelia was almost hesitant as she rapped on the door, waiting until she heard the 'Come in' before turning the knob and entering Angel's room. 

She found the vampire seated on the bed, hands knit together as he stared up at her, eyes dark and tumultuous. 

With a frown, she leaned against the door, studying him, concern for her friend flooding through her. 

He was worried. 

"So I take it it went." 

He nodded, shifting over when she came forward, sinking down onto the bed next to him, crossing her legs and watching as he licked his lips, trying to find a way to begin. 

"I can't dance, Cordy." 

The admission was told plaintively, in a puppy dog Angel voice that she had found melted her insides into goo. 

Her friend really was too adorable at times. 

"This really isn't your thing, I'll give you that." He nodded, staring straight ahead. 

"You'll do fine." 

He shrugged. "Well… you'll be there." 

"Not tonight. I have to… do some research first. But… yeah… in a couple days I'll be there. Watching you strut your stuff." 

Her tone was friendly, almost placid, and Cordelia wondered why on earth she wasn't pushing as adamantly against this as she had been. 

"You don't want to do this, do you?" she finally asked. 

"No." 

"You don't have to." 

"Yes I do. Wesley's right it's the only way." 

"It's not the only way." 

He stood abruptly, making her wobble slightly with the shift in weight on the bed, and then turned to her, grabbing her hand and pulling her up, so that she was suddenly pressed tightly against him. 

He held her, eyes dark and focused, her breath hitching slightly as he pursed his lips, studying her face, before moving back, and without another word pulling off his shirt. 

Cordelia was frozen completely to the floor, unresponsive as he moved back, and then, in all seriousness, asked, "Do I look… okay?" 

She gave him a bewildered glance, and he elaborated, "I haven't really seen myself since… Pylea… so…" 

"OH. Oh." Taking in a breath, Cordelia unbuttoned her sweater, suddenly warm, letting it fall on the bed as she nodded, eyes on his chest. "You're fine, Angel." 

"I'm not fat." 

An amused smile flitted across the corner of her lips. "No you're not fat." 

With almost hesitant fingers, Angel pushed his hand into his pocket and came out with what looked like black cloth. "I have to wear this. But eventually… I have to wear… the speedos." 

Cordelia took the items from his hand. A black speedo, and… a bow-tie. 

"Boy. That's original." He gave her a shrug, and she sighed, throwing the speedos on the bed and coming forward with the bowtie. 

"Come on, I'll help you with it." The smile she offered was gentle, and it gave Angel some encouragement, as he came forward, holding still while she slid her fingers around his neck, carefully leaning forward and expertly tying together the bowtie. 

"Voila," she said, her voice husky as she stepped back, nodding. 

Angel reached up hesitantly, fingering the tie. "I look okay?" 

"Angel you look like a dream boat." He gave her a curious frown, and she suddenly lit up with a smile, gasping. "Hold that thought!" She darted around him, and he watched, bewildered as she closed the door. 

He heard her steps clattering down the hallway, and he sighed, closing his eyes and settling back down on the bed, gathering Cordelia's sweater into his hands and pressing the cloth into his mouth, breathing in the scent. 

Cordelia, with her endlessly frustrating comments and endlessly infuriating smirks and smiles… 

He could do this. If she said he could, he could do it. 

Her steps came clattering back, and he put the sweater back, looking up as she came into the room again, this time bearing the digital camera. "Smile!" 

He blinked when she snapped the picture, and watched, open mouthed, as she settled down next to him, breasts unconsciously swiping his bare forearm as her fingers manipulated the camera's controls. 

He watched, unsure, as she leaned into him, her warmth seeping into his side, the unmistakable scent of Cordelia making him smile, as he leaned his arm back, letting her lean… almost … but it was the almost that counted… into his side, hair brushing his shoulder as his palm settled on the bed, on the other side of her waist, holding her almost neatly too him. 

Almost. But it was the almost that counted. 

"Here." He looked dutifully at the camera, and there he was, bare-chested with the stupid bowtie, blinking at the camera. "See?" she grinned at him, that sparkling smile that made him smile back. "A hunk." 

Her eyes met his, and the gaze was gentle, seeping through him with the sincerity and warmth, a feeling he had come to realize came almost exclusively with his young Seer. 

"Right." 

"You don't sound convinced." 

He gave her a grim smile, and reached forward, carefully pushing her bangs behind her ear in a tender caress. "As long as you believe it. You'll be picking me up in a few days." 

"Oh, you betcha. You just wait, Mister, when Cordelia Chase wants to be seductive and rich, she can damn well be seductive and rich." 

He couldn't help but grin at the confident tone. 

And despite the doubts of confidence in his own performance, he had a sneaking suspicion that his own reaction to being picked up to Cordelia Chase would not exactly come off as fake. 

Wistfully, he wondered how good an actress Cordelia truly had become. 

--   



	2. Chapter Two

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigate a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

-- 

Chapter Two 

The Dancehall was not by appearances an intimidating place. 

The fact of the matter was, for a strip club, it was damn classy. Valets in red jackets and black boutonnieres stood waiting under the canopy, brilliantly lit with a soft hue of reds and whites; subtle, elegant. 

A red carpet greeted the guests who pulled up in their cars, doors opening to reveal women in heels, hair done up, eyes glinting with smiles of expectations as the men took their arms, opening the doors to lead them in. 

One of the hotspots of Los Angeles that catered to women exclusively, going to the Dancehall meant you had money, and were willing to spend it. 

Cordelia had told him these words as he had waited for her to gently fix his gelled hair just so, leaning forward in front of him, hazel eyes shining with worry, concern and just a little big of anger. She didn't like that he had to do this, didn't like any of it, and even her part, she seemed to accept with reluctance. 

Every concern and worry had bubbled up to the surface and it was true, a lot was riding on him, and it was true, he didn't know much of anything when it came to this line of work, but Angel knew that the death of a friend was still unsolved, and that something needed to be done. 

But why couldn't it have been killing someone, or breaking down a window? 

Swallowing down the uncharacteristic turmoil that seeped through his body, Angel walked forward, hand clenched into a fist around the bowtie, shoved into the pockets of his trench coat, moving around the valet entrance, into the side alley, knocking on the much less glamorous back door. 

Two quick raps made it open a creak, as a young black man peered through the hole, eyes roving over Angel's body before opening it wider. 

"What do you want?" he demanded. "You want to see the show you gotta go up front." 

"What? See the-" Angel paused, shifting his feet and shaking his head. "I'm not- I'm the new guy." 

The other man paused, and suddenly nodded briskly, opening the door wider to let Angel in. "Sorry, man. Sometimes these guys-" 

"These guys?" 

"You know- men who like men? Their night is Thursday and well… with the coat-" 

Angel looked down at his coat and buried his fists into defensively. "It's a masculine coat." 

"Whatever." The bulky young man moved away, picking up a clipboard and eyeing Angel over it. "You're… Angel, right?" 

"Right." 

"Cute name," he answered dryly. "What's your real one?" 

"Huh?" 

"Real name. I need it for the W-2 forms." 

"That is my real name!" Angel answered hotly, eyes narrowing as a small growl slipped from his throat. "What the hell kinda name is…" quickly he scanned the ID tag, "Brian, anyway?" 

Brian just raised an eyebrow, and Angel sighed, turning away. 

"All right, ANGEL," he said, scratching on the clipboard with a pen. "What's your full name? On second thought here," he came forward, thrusting the pile of papers into Angel's arms, moving around him, quirking a finger in the process. "Just have them filled out by your next shift. Come on, I'll show you the dressing room." 

Angel considered letting a fist accidentally slide into Brian's face, but thought better of it, instead following him through the crowded, narrow doorways as he quickly explained the rules as they went. 

"You get here thirty minutes before your shift. You're a Floor Boy, you guys change in there," he pointed to a small room. "Black pants, and the bowtie. You keep your tips and that's it, so shake that booty, boy. Now, over there," he pointed to a much larger door, amply varnished and with a star on it. "That's where the strippers are." Brian paused, turning and eyeing Angel. "Rebecca said you might be in there soon, provided you learn your routine. Angel. Geez. That's gonna be a pussy run." 

Angel narrowed his eyes, glared, but managed again to say nothing. 

"Hey Brian, this the new pretty boy?" A naked man called out, and Angel's eyes widened as the shaved headed Latino winked in his direction laughing as he opened the door and went inside. 

"That's Rolando- he's a slut. Don't mess with him," Brian said, pulling him by the forearm. "Alright, Rebecca and Donald's offices are in the corner, don't go into Donald's without some padding on your ass, dude likes the pinch, Rebecca at least asks." 

Angel choked, and Brian patted him on the back distractedly. "All right. You're all done here. Take off your shirt, put on the tie and then meet Rebecca outside in the lounge. She'll take you through your job." 

Angel was left in the middle of the room with about ten or so well built men staring at him, most half naked, some hostile, some smiling. 

He was a vampire with a soul. He could handle this. 

Offering a smile and a shrug, he gave a little wave. "Hey. I'm Angel." 

The laughter that erupted made him blush, as he moved to the small dressing room, reaching out and pushing one of the floor boys and making him skid across the floor as he did. 

As he closed the door behind him, he noticed with some contentment that the laughter had stopped. 

-- 

"Are you sure this is the place?" 

Gunn smoothed his hand over the steering wheel, pursing his lips as he craned his neck, not answering Fred's question right away. 

"Looks like it," he said after a minute, eyes scanning over the numbers. "Yeap. This is the place." 

"Jennifer's roommate still lives here," Fred answered, holding up the small pamplet as Gunn opened the door the truck, waited patiently until he came over and opened her door, holding out her hand and allowing him to guide her out of the truck while she kept reading. 

Gunn watched patiently, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips before he came forward, a palm on the small of her back. "Fred, baby. It might be easier if you looked up while we walked up the stairs." 

Her eyes jerked up from the pamphlet, and she blushed, nodding before sliding the papers into her purse. 

"I don't suppose we could have convinced Wesley to come," she remarked as they slowly walked up the stairs to the apartment. 

Gunn only frowned slightly. Honestly, the fact that Wesley was coming to work and allowing himself to take charge at all was considered progress. 

His breath hitched slightly as he remembered the terrified face on Winnifred's face, tripping and falling with horror in the hallways of the Hyperion, running from an ax-wielding Wesley who was attempting to kill her, would have raped her or something much worse- 

He shook himself, tried to shake the emotion off, and in a selfish bout of relief, thanked God that it hadn't been him, that he had been able to keep enough control to get Fred to knock him out before he had done anything. 

A possessive hand settled on Fred's shoulder, and when she gave him a distracted smile, he felt a tug inside of him, making him breathe a little irregularly as they reached the steps of the immaculate townhouse gated place. 

"Uh… last name… Sanders, I think," she said, and Gunn obediently pressed the numbers to the corresponding name on the callbox, waiting until he heard a scratchy, 'hello' before he began to speak. 

"Ms. Sanders?" 

There was a pause. 

"Yes?" 

"I apologize for intruding. My name is Charles Gunn, I'm here with my associate Winnifred Burkle. We're here investigating the death of Jennifer Suddage. We were hoping we could ask you some questions?" 

When the voice finally answered, it seemed hesitant, almost scared. "Are you with the police?" 

"No, ma'am, we're detectives." 

Again, there was a pause. 

"Angel Investigations?" 

Gunn and Fred shot each other looks, and Fred quickly spoke into the machine. "Yes, ma'am." 

The door was buzzed open immediately, and Gunn didn't waste time, opening the gated door and letting Fred through first. 

-- 

Rebecca Hull wore a black pantsuit that was expensively tailored. She wore diamond earrings that appeared deceptively small, and her hair was cropped shoulder length, loose, but never moving an inch. 

As she stood in the middle of her domain, a martini in her hand, hazel eyes roving over the as yet empty strip club, she looked very much like a cat. 

When Angel entered, her eyes caught his, and she smiled, waving him over. 

"You're on time. That gives you better marks than over half the men here." 

"Hi," he said, hands clenched to his side, looking down at his bare chested body when he noticed she had yet to meet his eyes. 

She frowned, and leaned forward, letting a finger slid over his chest. 

When he stiffened, she merely gave him a look, shaking her head. "Don't worry, this is business. I play for the other team." 

The cough she received only made her roll her eyes, as she smoothed her hand over his chest, walking around and proceeding to do the same to his back. 

"Nice, firm tones. You work out?" 

"I do a lot of fighting." 

"Martial arts?" 

"Something like that." 

"Hmm." She pursed her lips, crossing her arms, and stepping back, as if to take in the whole package. After a second, she asked, "Do you have a girlfriend, Angel?" 

There was hesitancy in the answer, and Angel wasn't sure why, as the words formed in his mouth, and then carefully came out, "No." 

She waited, another smirk on her lips. "Next time, do yourself a favor, and answer immediately. Women around here don't like guys with girlfriends. Especially not you. You're Angel, untouchable." She came forward, cocking her head. "Angelic face, but something else completely. Wolf in sheep's clothing." 

He couldn't help but let a grim smile of irony escape. "That about sums it up." 

"One more question before I get you your tray." 

Angel pursed his lips, crossing his arms as he looked into the woman's eyes. Cold, calculating, mischievous, he knew the kind. Taking a sniff, he found the results confusing. Completely confusing. 

Human… 

"Okay." 

"This little hesitancy of yours, the little girl that popped in your head before you answered, that's not going to be a problem, is it? I pay my men well, Angel. But I need them free and clear." 

The grin that emerged was pure Angelus, and it came almost too easily, as the vampire chuckled, grim and foreboding as he answered, "Don't worry, you've got all of me. I need the money." 

She gave him a long look, and nodded, satisfied. 

"Good, then get to work. The bouncers will make sure the girls won't feel you completely up." She began to move off, and suddenly turned, arms brushing his as she leaned forward, voice softer, firmer. "One more thing. The ladies with the roses? Look like they have money? You give them anything they want. And I do mean everything. You got it?" 

Angel paused, looked at her, slightly startled at the blatant innuendo, but he nodded. "Sure, I got it." 

Her hand reached up and pressed against his face, smiling. "Thank you, Angel. I have a feeling you'll do just fine here." 

--   
  
It was a curious problem. 

Cordelia Chase, though she had long since been aware of her own weakness when it came to the new fall collection, and her overwhelming desire to overspend on all of it, simply because she now had free license too, actually had her mind on other matters. 

Her hands moved over the catalogues, mind filled with attempting to get back into the rich bitch mode, and instead found it pulled into two different directions. 

The first was Angel, and that was no surprise. As her best friend and closest confident, the fact of the matter was that he was always on her mind. Fear of Angelus, and love for her friend, and with grim reluctance even she had to acknowledge that there was a sweet sense of irony in the fact that the one person she trusted above anyone else in the world and the one person she feared above all else were all in one very sweet face. 

Angel was a vampire who had faced down hordes, and had done trial by fires by the thousands. He had gone to hell and back, literally, at least twice, and survived. 

But when it came to human, social situations, Angel truly sucked. 

There was no way around that, and she felt the knot in her stomach that refused to let her concentrate at the thought of him now, in that club, all alone, with no one there to really shelter him, provide the needed buffer that overly, dark and broody had come had come to rely upon. 

She sighed. 

"Something wrong?" 

The voice belonged to the other distraction, one Wesley Wyndham Price, the man who had recently given her own vampire a run for his money in brooding and self blame. 

She gave another breath out, and shrugged, turning her eyes back down to the pages. "Just thinking about Angel, is all." 

"Oh?" He came forward, glasses glinting slightly as he lowered himself into the chair, watching her with a crease in his forehead. 

Her eyes were frank, begging him to be honest. "Do you really think he'll be okay?" 

Wesley gave a small shrug, eyes dark and pensive as he rested his chin on his forearms, leaning forward as if at a soda fountain. "If I hadn't believed in him I wouldn't have allowed him to do this." 

Cordelia frowned, and finally nodded, turning back to the pages. "I guess." He was quiet, and she waited, patiently, until she finally said, "What?" 

"Nothing, I just…" 

"She doesn't blame you, Wesley. And you're not talking to anyone about it. It's going to fester. And if it doesn't get out soon you'll explode or recede and you'll lose her completely." He had gone completely still, as she turned, tone gentle, but firm. "Wesley, get over it. Find a way. If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine, talk to Angel, or Gunn, or Fred even, but please. Angel's enough of a masochist, we don't need another one." 

That got a small smile, and she leaned forward, her hand a gentle caress on his cheek, disrupted when the door opened and Gunn and Fred walked through the door. 

On their faces were grim expressions of worry. 

"What happened?" 

Fred came forward first, laying down the papers she carried with her, and turning to Gunn as he offered his usual summary. 

"This is some serious crap, ya'll." 

"Perhaps something a little more descriptive?" Wesley suggested, straightening up. 

"We talked to her roommate," Fred said, her accent giving her words a honeyed faded drawl. "She said that before Jennifer died, she was scared… she said she owed all this money and if she pay up… bad things would happen." 

"And homegirl also said Jennifer never said who she owed the money too, but she's been a regular at the DanceHall for a while, and come to think of it, according to this chick, all these problems started when she started going." 

"So at least we know we're hitting the right nerve," Cordelia acknowledged, secretly thankful there had been no vision to pound into her head and incapacitate her completely in order to get that information. 

"So Jennifer was in trouble before the murder," Wesley said. Gunn gave a grim smile as he nodded, and Wesley shook his head, immediately lost in thought. "I just find it odd…" 

"Find what odd?" Fred asked. 

He was staring at the counter, mind focused completely, "Why on earth wouldn't she come to us? We had helped her before, we could have helped her again." 

"Maybe she didn't want our help." 

"Or maybe it wasn't anything we could help with," Cordelia interjected. When Gunn gave her a quizzical look, she elaborated, "What I mean is, maybe it's not supernatural. I mean, don't you think I would have gotten a vision by now if it were?" 

"So homegirl just got in trouble with her bookie?" 

"That doesn't explain the other disappearances." 

Gunn grabbed the file that contained the information on the other missing persons. "Fred and I can look into this tomorrow, right Fred?" 

He winked, and she smiled, nodding as she pulled one long bang out of her face, eyes locking with Charles', moving to take the file to peruse the contents. 

Cordelia observed the interaction, and Wesley's own look of observance and the passing sadness, with a frown. 

"Why don't you go along, Wes?" she asked pointedly. 

When both Fred and Gunn looked at him expectantly, he only flushed, and slowly shook his head no. "I would rather- I have some things to do here. Gunn and Fred will do just fine on their own." 

Fred's smile curled into a frown, but Gunn only nodded, oblivious to the female's agitation to Wesley's state. "All right, dude. But get some sleep okay? You look kinda tired." He gave Fred a grin. "What do you think? Ready to try that new race car game?" 

Fred let her eyes slip from Wesley's gaze, and immediately nodded, taking Charles' outstretched hand and allowing him to lead her into the game room. 

Cordelia was quiet, letting out a soft sigh, as Wesley looked down, pulling off his glasses. 

"That's not going to work." 

"Pardon?" 

"The glasses thing isn't going to work, Wesley. You can see the situation as clearly as I can." 

He was quiet, and his tone was firm as he answered, "Perhaps you might be of better use concentrating on your guise instead of deconstructing me?" 

Oooh. Ouch. 

Cordelia sighed, and let it go. 

"Fine, Wesley," she muttered, snapping the magazines closed and grabbing her coat, heading towards the door. "Fester. But I'm not going to let it go, as long as you keep holding on to it." 

-- 

It was late, or early, when he walked through the doors of the Hyperion, and in a true testament to the hours that had become regular, the lights were all on, and voices were still flitting through the halls. 

Gunn's laughter could easily be heard from the foyer, followed by Fred's chatter, and he paused, almost smiling as he heard it, distracted for just a moment from the utter turmoil in his heart. 

Wesley's office light was on, and he headed that way, finding the Englishman seated as his desk, reading. 

"Hey, Wes." 

Wesley looked up, eyes somber, losing that glint that had come and never really returned since Billy. 

Billy. 

Angel took a breath, leaning against the doorway, pushing away the feelings that had come so easily with the bastard. The look of pain in Cordelia's eyes had been telling enough to allow him to lie, to say there was no one responsible for Billy, but the truth was it was him, and he would do it again. 

If it came between choosing Cordelia and something of that nature, there simply wasn't a choice. 

In the long run, he wondered where that put him on the Powers' ideals. 

And then he realized he no longer cared. He didn't fight for them. 

But what it did to Wesley was something he would carry with him for a long while. 

"How'd it go?" 

"I survived, but to be I'd rather be back in hell." Angel offered a wry grin, and Wesley smiled back, removing his glasses. "Have you seen Cordelia?" 

"I imagine she's up in her room." 

"Her room." 

"The one she stays in on late nights. She went shopping today." 

"Oh. Thanks." Angel turned out of the doorway, and turned back. "You okay, Wes?" 

"Fine thank you." 

The tone was dismissive, and Angel frowned, but turned, anxious to see his Seer. 

He crossed the lobby, and was suddenly met with Fred and Gunn's voices, who called to him as they stood in the doorway, smiles on their faces. 

"Yo, Angel! How'd it go?" 

"Not going to talk about it." 

"Did you get your booty pinched?" 

Fred giggled and said something and Gunn smirked as Angel growled at Charles. 

"Charles, leave him alone," Fred said, pulling back into the room, the giggling and laughing making Angel turn his head and shake it in wonder. 

Taking the steps two at a time, he was at her door in less than a minute, knocking carefully. 

"Who is it?" 

"It's me." 

"Oh, hi! Come in!" Angel carefully uncurled the knob, steps faltering when he saw the bareness of her back as she carefully slid the spaghetti strap over her shoulder. "Can you zip me up?" she asked. 

Angel paused, throat suddenly dry, looking behind him to make sure it was he who was getting asked this question. 

"What?" 

She gave him an impatient look, motioning with her head. "Zip me up! I'm limber and all but…" 

"Oh, okay." With a curiously closed throat, Angel stepped forward, hesitantly reaching for the zipper that rested on the painted tattoo on the small of Cordelia's back. 

She smelled nice, and he found his eyes transfixed on the bare back, smooth and creamy, with out blemish, silken to the touch. 

"Angel!" 

"Sorry," he said, reaching forward, hands gentle, a shiver jolting unexpectedly through him as he gathered the soft fabric in his hands and with his large fingers fumbled the zipper up to the top. "There," he said hastily, stepping back. 

"Geez. Barney the dinosaur would have been gentler." 

Stepping back, she turned to inspect herself in the mirror, hands at her sides, adjusting the line of the dress as she walked backwards on the stiletto heels, the red dress slim fitting, reaching down to her calves, arms and shoulders bare save for the little spaghetti straps that Angel suspected would break if he even thought about tugging down- 

"So how'd it go?" 

He blinked. "What?" 

She rolled her eyes, giving him a huff as she moved to the dress, reaching into another box and pulling out a roll of beads. "The Dancehall, silly. How'd it go?" 

"I…uh… Cordy where'd we get the money to pay for all this?" 

"Nabbit. Wrote it off as a donation," she answered flippantly, handing the pearls to him and turning around. 

Angel felt almost proud that he knew what to do without being told, gently reaching around her and moving the pearls around the column of her neck. "It was… not good," he answered. "But I got tips. A lot of them." 

"Oh yeah?" 

He grinned at the distracted, but slightly angry tone as he clipped the pearls together. "Yeah." 

"Well don't get too comfortable, stud muffin," she grumbled. "It'll only be a few days before I go in there and break up the little party." 

"Umm… right." She reached for the jewelry box, this time picking up a gold bracelet and handing it to him. 

He frowned, fussing with the clip. What was it about these damn things, just the wrong pressure and the thing would- 

*snap* 

Angel's eyes widened, and then looked at Cordelia who was staring in open mouthed horror. "I'm sorry." 

She sighed, huffed and plucked the bracelet with the broken clasp away. "I'll do that myself," she said with a forced grin. "Moron." 

"Cordelia." 

"Hmm." 

"I have this routine I have to learn." From his pocket he produced a video tape cassette. 

She whirled, eyes fixed on the cassette. "Already?" 

"Rachel thinks I'm hot." 

"Who the hell is Rachel?!" 

He opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it at the sight of Cordelia with her hands on her hips, heels tapping, and closed it. 

"No one." 

"Oh, no, Mr. Studly who is she?" 

"Just a lady… she's… old. OLD. Really OLD. And-" 

"Rich, and snobby and wants to get in your pants?" 

"Something like that," he admitted. 

"Have I mentioned I hate you doing this?" 

He felt something give inside of him, a warmth that made him smile. "A few times." 

She came forward, shaking her head as she took the cassette from his hands, shifting it between her palms. "So?" 

"So… I was… you know… since you… well you danced… and…" 

"Angel," came the impatient huff. 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you want me to help you learn the routine?" 

Damn. He was a bad ass vampire, right? What the hell was wrong with him? 

Almost meek, he nodded. 

For that, he was blessed with a smile. 

"First thing tomorrow morning, what do you say we forgo sword practice and work on 'pet me I'm a whore' instead?" 

He gave a relieved grin. "Sounds good." 

"Great. Now leave me alone. I have to change." 

"You look… really nice, Cordy." 

"Thanks Angel. Bye." He backed away, sneaking another look and opened the door. "Angel?" 

His head swiveled back. "Yeah?" 

"Stay the hell away from this Rachel bitch." 

Her eyes were glinting and he found it much easier to just nod and agree as he closed the door, shaking his head in bewilderment, and finding himself smiling even as he did. 

--   



	3. Chapter Three

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigate a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
Chapter Three 

He was already waiting when she descended the steps, her smile bright and her eyes shining despite the early hour of the day. 

Carefully, Angel stretched, avoiding her eyes almost deliberately as she walked over to the CD player, placing the disc inside and closing it. 

"Cordelia?" 

"I watched the routine. You realize it's complete and utter crap, right?" 

Angel just shrugged, crossing his arms, as she turned, and again his eyes wandered down her frame, the spandex clinging to her body, adhering to every curve in a way that seemed almost sinful. 

He closed his eyes, and then opened them again when her smell betrayed her only a few steps away, looking back at the radio and then nodding when the assigned song began to float through the speakers. 

"Okay, Angel, let's work on just a simple beat for now." 

He blinked, slightly confused as she tapped her foot in time with the music. 

"Shouldn't we… the routine-" 

"Forget the routine for now, right now you need to find your rhythm," she said, taking his palms in hers and leading him to the middle of the workspace, hazel eyes on his own as she gathered his large hands in her smaller ones. Upon further study of his face, her half smile turned into a frown. "You look nervous as hell, Angel." 

"I just…" 

"Angel, you can move, okay? You have it in you." She gave him a grin. "Just… call up the inner slut. Think of something blonde." 

His eyes narrowed, and she only smirked, leaving him standing in the middle of the floor and turning up the sound. 

Again the sensual beat floated over the room, and she smiled at it, closing her eyes and letting her own body sway with it, before opening her eyes and winking. 

"Lose the shirt, bucko." 

He blinked, and looked down self consciously at his sweater. "Why?" 

"Because you need to get used to women… you know… groping you… and you're not going to be wearing almost anything by the time you get into… this… so… might as well start now." 

Her disaffected tone was almost damning, the soft purr of her voice bringing him almost to anger as he realized that Cordelia Chase, with her methodical and no nonsense words, was not affected by the blatant sexuality of this… at all. 

Sure, her heartbeat was racing slightly faster than normal, but that was adrenaline, it happened every time they were in this room, and her heightened sense of awareness had even served to make him wonder at times to what she was thinking about it- 

But still… her little comments… her jokes and quips… 

Did Cordelia really see him as something … not sexual? 

She had called him a man, didn't she? And handsome… and heroic… 

But Cordelia wasn't… she wasn't allowed- 

It didn't matter. She was his best friend, and his fantasy and it just didn't matter. 

Nothing would ever happen between them. 

Because it couldn't. 

Shaking his head, he finally just let the angst slide over him, enjoying what little he had, as he reached for his dark sweater and pulled it off, the smirk on his features making her steps falter as he gave her a genuine vampire grin. 

"Damn Angel," she said after a minute, grabbing a scrunchy and pulling her hair back into a makeshift ponytail, turning away from him. "You're damn hot with that smirk." 

"Thanks." 

There was a long bout of silence, before she turned, and came forward, hazel eyes locked on his as she clasped his hands once more. 

"I want you to do something for me," she began. Transfixed, he only offered a shaky nod. "Close your eyes." 

Her breath fell on his skin in moist tufts, and it made him shudder, a movement running throughout his body he was almost sure she could feel, but she only instructed him with those low tones of hers. 

"Listen, okay? Do you feel the beat?" 

He wasn't sure, shaking his head uncertainly, hands tightening around hers as she opened one palm and suddenly it was outstretched directly against her chest, half on her breast. 

He almost yanked it away, but she held it firm. "Listen," she said. "Feel my breathing pattern." 

He swallowed, biting his lip in grim frustration, but obeyed, counting her heartbeats, senses suddenly overwhelmed as her chest rose and fell under his fingertips. 

"I know you can hear my heartbeat, and I know you can feel it, now, feel the beat, it's in sync, almost perfectly with the beat. Listen to the music, Angel, and you can feel the beat with my beating, with my breathing." 

"My heart doesn't beat, Cordelia," he said, eyes opening to find her staring at him curiously. 

A long second, and she nodded. "I know. That's why I'm letting you use mine." 

There was more inferred in that sentence, more he wanted to take from it, than what he was sure she was offering. The closed throat that had come involuntarily made it slightly difficult to breathe, but he did it, as her next order commanded it. 

"Breathe in sync with me, okay?" she asked breathlessly, and that in itself made him smile. 

Obediently, he filled his dead lungs with air, closing his eyes, and doing nothing but feeling the music flow through him, through her lungs, through her heart. 

Quietly, he began to feel the pounding, the pulsing, rhythm that he had once discovered in the poetry of fighting, the beauty of the kill he had known as Angelus. 

Dance, it seemed, was not all that different. 

Movements were slow as her hands slowly took his, and suddenly her back was pressed against him, the soft swell of her buttocks pressed against his groin, and his eyes opened as she manipulated his fingers, pressing them gently against her hips, pinning her against him. 

"I want you to feel my hips, okay?" she said, her voice a tad husky. "You have to move with your hips, that's where everything else comes from. Keep your back straight, and move from here." 

And she began to move, her body seeping warmth into his fingers as she swayed gently against him. 

There was pure beauty in the movement, and he stood, the willing pupil, completely preoccupied as Cordelia moved, swayed, ground against him, a soft smile of wonder sliding over his features, a growl of possession escaping when she turned in his arms, warm hands sliding up his bare chest to palm the side of his neck. 

Her face was flushed, her body was warmer than usual, and her tone was feverish, as she continued to move. 

"Follow my lead, Angel. Move those hips." 

His hands slid around her waist, pinning her to him, and with that same smile that came so easily with her, he did. 

-- 

Gunn felt the shiver go through him, and he decided he had seen enough, moving back quietly up the stairs, and closing the door, knowing somehow that neither Angel or Cordelia were actually in a position to really care whether he had been there or not. 

He leaned against the door, pulling at his collar, when Wesley came into the lobby, sipping his cup of tea. 

"Gunn." 

"What up, Wes." 

"What are you doing?" 

"Recovering from Dirty Dancing: the sequel," he remarked, throwing a thumb back toward the door as he walked forward. "It's about to get X-rated in there." 

Wesley cast the closed door a concerned look, the coffee cup poised at his lips as he finally shook his head. "Cordelia knows better than to let things go too far," he said. 

"Uh… Wesley she's grinding against Angel in there." Gunn leaned forward, palms pressed against the counter. "Shouldn't we be worried? I mean… come to think of it… haven't those two been a little… close?" 

Wesley sighed, putting down the cup and staring thoughtfully at his friend. "Yes. They have. I daresay Angel's in love with Cordelia." 

Gunn stared at him blankly. "And… warning bells not ringing because??" 

"Because like it or not, there isn't anything we can do about it, Charles," Wesley finally said, shrugging sadly. "If and when Cordelia decides to reciprocate Angel's feelings there will… well it won't be easy for either. Both know it can't happen. And yet…" 

"Can't choose who you love, is that it?" 

"In a nutshell." 

Gunn pursed his lips, looking down at his hands, quiet for a moment. "So… Fred and I-" 

"Ah… yes." Wesley picked up the file and handed it to his compatriot, giving him a grim smile. "Those are the rest of the files on the missing persons from the club. You and Fred can look into them together or separately." 

Gunn took the file, thumbing through it thoughtfully, and took a breath. "Listen… English… I was kinda… I need to ask you for some advice." 

The hesitant, insecure voice made Wesley turn, come forward immediately. "Of course, Gunn. What is it?" 

"Uhmm… all right…" Charles shuffled slightly, and took a breath, finally pushing the words out. "I kinda … like Fred." There was no answer, and feeling the burn on his cheeks that signaled he was blushing, Gunn didn't look at Wesley, instead hurrying the rest of the sentence out. "And you being the boss and everything I just want to make sure it's okay if I maybe… you know… ask her out." 

Again, the silence continued, and finally Charles looked up to find Wesley staring at him looking as if he had been slapped in the face. 

Immediately his insides squelched, and Gunn looked down, "Uh… sorry, never mind-" 

"No, Gunn… forgive me I just… I had no idea you felt that way." 

He gave an insecure grin, his heart flip flopping slightly. "She's… cute. In that smart kinda way… just… I don't know…" 

"She's a remarkable woman." 

Gunn was too busy blushing to detect the faint longing in the voice. "Yeah. So… that's cool then?" 

Wesley was quiet, and finally just gave a grim smile. "You don't need my permission to ask out Fred, Gunn. That is… your choice." 

"I know… but you said once that the reason you and Cordy never hooked it up was because of interoffice-" 

"The reason Cordelia and I never 'hooked up' was because of him," Wesley said, motioning to the closed basement door. "And you know that." 

Gunn gave him a teasing grin. "Yeah, boy, I knew it. Why do you think I never tried to hook it up with Ms. Thing in there? Girl said she was trying to save my life but it was always 'Angel's not alone', and 'Angel needs to get laid'. Never a word to the wise about my need for some quality time." 

Wesley smiled, chuckling. 

"What's so funny?" Fred looked bleary-eyed as she made her way to the counter, accepting Wesley's outstretched cup of coffee with a nod of thanks. 

"Nothing in particular. Talkin' about the Swayze wannabe's in there," Gunn said, nodding to the door. 

Fred looked puzzled, following their line of vision. "That's… an interesting song." 

"You should see the routine." 

"Trust me, I plan to," she answered, blushing slightly when Wesley choked on his tea and Gunn cocked a surprised eyebrow. "So… are we looking for the missing people?" she began hastily, taking the files and using them to cover her rapidly reddening face. 

"Yeah, and I think we better go now," Gunn said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the door. "Come on, we'll get some breakfast burritos on the way." 

"Why don't they have breakfast tacos?" she asked, her voice puzzled. 

"Dunno. We'll ask them." 

Wesley watched them go, a curious ache in his chest, the pain rapidly splintering as he leaned against the counter, moist tears flooding in his eyes. 

-- 

One bare palm slid over the glistening chest, as his hand cradled the small of her back, watching as he tangled their fingers, holding it, watching as her muscles tightened, leaning back, slowly moving into the dip, before his shifted, and pulled her up, her face, her eyes, her mouth, inches from his own. 

And his body continued to move, hips cradled against hers, gyrating, moving as he saw the beads of perspiration on her upper lip, her forehead, thoughts of tasting the salty drops moving through his mind as she let her pink tongue slide out to moisten her lips. 

His body jolted in reaction and she felt it, stiffening immediately, almost alongside of him. 

Immediately they both let go, breath gasping on both sides as Angel turned his back, not wanting to see her reaction to his very male reaction. 

"Well… I … think we got… the point of this lesson… down," she stammered, reaching for the towel and water bottle. 

He turned to find her gulping it greedily, moving to turn off the stereo, shaking ever so slightly. 

"Yeah… I think so…" he agreed, massaging at his neck, reaching for his sweater to pull it on hastily. 

"So… then I'll leave you to… practice and I'll… run up the stairs-" She broke into that run almost immediately, and he felt himself wince. 

"Cordelia." 

She froze, looking back at him, body tensed and coiled like a spring. 

"I'm sorry." 

The plaintive tone did something, because she smiled, shrugging every so slightly. "We'll pick it up- okay bad choice of words," and he blushed. "Uhmm… we'll… keep working on your routine later today. I have to meet Nabbit anyway." 

Angel frowned, moving to the stairs and looking up at her. "You've been seeing a lot of him lately." 

She grinned. "Part of my cover, silly." 

"What do you mean?" 

"My cover. I'm David Nabbit's mistress." 

And with that, she ran up the stairs, leaving him to watch open mouthed. 

-- 

Fred sighed, sinking down into the bench, holding the Styrofoam cups as Gunn settled to the side of her, holding the plate of eight foil wrapped tacos from the street vendor. 

"I don't understand it," she muttered, handing him his drink, careful to make sure he had a free hand to allow it to happen. 

"I know what you mean," the black man muttered, shaking his head, balancing the plate on his lap and opening the foil to squeeze the wedges of lemon over it. 

Fred leaned over, taking the little packets of salt and absently distributing the contents over their meal. 

"There's no connection between any of them. No logic. I can't make heads or tails out of it." 

"And if you can't, Baby Doll there ain't no way I can." 

She found herself smiling at the tone, her eyes rising up to meet Charles' face and finding her gaze locked with his for a second. 

A small flush gathered over her body and she looked away again, taking the cilantro and carefully arranging the leafy substance over the tacos. 

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Charles." 

"You said it yourself, I'm the muscle. Not exactly a thinker." But he took the green salsa, and poured it on his half, and she had to smile at the familiarity, knowing that he wouldn't put it on hers, knowing he would take the onions and only make sure there were a few in each of her tacos, because that was how she liked them. 

"You're more than the muscle. Hell, Ah'm still tryin' to figure out what I am." 

He gave her a grin, looking comical with the way his knees were held together, the makeshift table a little wobbly as she gathered one corn tortilla between her fingertips. "You're Fred. That's all, girl. And that's damn special." 

"I'm glad you think so." 

"Oh, I do. Special enough to beat me at that race car game." 

She felt the giggle emerged. "Well, that was just a simple calculation, Gunn-" 

"Yeah, just wait until you try Tomb Raider. I kick ass as Lara Croft." 

"I would like to do that," she mused, her glasses glinting as she looked a little farther away. "Go around in tombs, fightin' evil and… reading stuff-" 

"Don't you do that now? I mean, not the tombs, but hey! Sewers!" 

She grinned, nodding her acceptance of his statement. They were quiet, eating in silence, and when he shifted closer, she didn't mind it, instead leaning into his shoulder, happily munching on her taco. 

"Hey Fred?" 

"Mmmhmm?" 

"You think maybe if I ask you out, we could you know… go on a date?" 

The taco suddenly seemed to grow in her mouth, and she gasped for breath. 

"Fred?" 

Coughing, she choked, heart suddenly hammering, lurching forward when Gunn pounded on her back with a none too gentle hand. 

"Fred!" 

The piece came up, and, finally went down the right tube, and she was finally able to breathe again, taking in gasping breaths, pushing her glasses up and wringing her hands together in distraction. 

"I'm okay," she said, moving back. Gunn looked worried, deep dark eyes boring into hers, and she found herself staring at him with a small smile on her face. "Did you umm… say date?" 

The uncertainty made him smile, and Fred realized, it was a very nice smile. 

"Yeah. That okay with you?" 

"I umm…" 

"I mean… I'm no Angel-" 

"Charles." 

Her hand rested on his, fingers closed around and squeezed, and he looked down, unable to move because of the tacos in his lap. 

His eyes met hers, and she smiled, shrugging slightly. "You don't have to be." 

When he smiled, her own grin widened, and Fred realized they must have looked like idiots sitting there smiling at each other, but strangely, she didn't seem to care. 

-- 

"Has Angel left?" 

Wesley looked up, feeling oddly like the bellhop when he answered Cordelia. "Yes, he said his shift started at seven." 

"Oh, okay." 

Wesley gave her a nod, and returned to reading his book. 

Cordelia paused, looking around the hotel. "And Fred and Gunn?" 

"On their date, I imagine." 

"Did you just say date?" 

His voice was unresponsive as he answered, "I believe I did, yes." 

Cordelia hesitated, looking toward Wesley, then to the door, and then back at him. "I'm confused." 

"What about?" 

"Ummm… weren't you jonesing for Fred?" 

Wesley froze, ever so slightly, and then in a move that seemed almost forced, he turned the page. "That's hardly common knowledge, is it?" 

"So… Gunn didn't know." 

"I gave him my blessing." 

"But he didn't know." 

Wesley let out an annoyed breath. "No, Cordelia. He didn't know." 

The smallest softening came into Cordelia's eyes as her shoulders slumped, bag dropping on the stool as she came forward. "Wesley-" 

"No, Cordelia." 

"It's not like you to shut me out." 

"I'm fine." 

"Then why are you trembling?" 

His fingers clenched around the paper, wrinkling it, but Cordelia didn't give, coming forward, swallowing hard. 

"Gunn needs someone like Fred," he answered, voice tired, and passive. 

"And what about you?" 

"Cordelia, I'm in much too much of an emotional abyss to be of any use to Fred," he said, his eyes fixed on his book. "You and I both know that. Perhaps you were right. Maybe we are meant to be alone." 

Moistness in Cordelia's eyes hindered her vision slightly, as she found she could say nothing to Wesley about his turmoil. Who was she kidding? 

Since when had she been able to help with anyone's issues? 

She could barely handle her own, thanks to her frazzled mind, besieged by visions and headaches. 

She let out a breath, closing her eyes, mind flashing to the incident in the basement, and felt herself shiver slightly. 

"Fine," she agreed to the unspoken compromise. "But I'm getting this out of you Wesley." 

"I'll look forward to it." 

She shook her head, turning, moving away, and suddenly he latched on to her. 

Her arms went around him, and she held her friend, felt his trembling body collapsing against hers, and her heart actually HURT for him. 

Their stoic leader. 

Broken and bitter and it was her fault. 

Her damn fault. 

"I'm sorry, Wesley," she whispered into his hair, closing her eyes, and feeling the tears sting her eyes. "I'm so sorry." 

-- 

Donald wore tight t-shirts that didn't quite fit over his slightly flabby chest, and Angel wondered if he was the least self conscious about it, the boss who seemed there only to leer at the men and take care of the finances, studying Angel's paperwork. 

The paperwork he had discovered on his desk had seemed suspicious enough, but Cordelia had examined it, taken it to Nabbitt, and it had come out clean.   
  
Thanks to an unknown source, Angel had an identity. 

"Okay. Looks like we're good. You'll get your check on Thursday. How's the routine going?" 

Angel shuffled uncomfortably, but nodded. "Good. Good." 

Donald leaned back into his leather chair, studying Angel with a frown on his face. "I hear you knocked J.T. halfway across the dressing room yesterday." 

"The bastard laughed at me." 

The smirk on Donald's face made Angel smile back, and the older man chuckled. "Good to know you're a quick learner. Don't play the bitch, Angel. You'll be headlining with Rolando soon with that attitude." 

"Oh, I hope so." Angel stood, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, as he rose from his chair. 

"One more thing." 

Angel paused, and sat back down. 

Donald scribbled on his notebook, eyes narrowing at something, and then looked up. "Rebecca told you about the Red Roses, right?" 

Angel nodded. The precarious elite, women who bled money, wore roses just above their cleavage, on their right shoulders. 

"Give them anything they want." 

"Within reason." Donald grinned. "They pay well, Angel. We host a party for them every Saturday at my place. Just a gathering. Some of most able bodied men are invited to keep them company. I would like you to be there." 

Angel narrowed his eyes. "What kind of party?" 

"You're expected to get lucky." 

As the words sunk in, Donald gauged his reaction, watching him carefully. 

Angel let out a breath, and suddenly smiled. "Is that a promise?" 

Donald was quiet, and then smiled back. "Guaranteed. Demanded." 

"I'm on it." Angel leaned forward, clasped hands with the older man. 

"Donald don't hit on my new favorite Floor Boy." Rebecca looked distracted as she entered the office, opening the file cabinet and thumbing through some files. "He likes girls." 

"So do I. Sometimes." 

Rebecca rolled her eyes, turning and smiling at Angel. "How's the routine coming along?" 

"It's coming." 

"Boys treating you nice?" 

"I almost beat up J.T." 

"Good. He deserves it. Just don't leave bruises. He has a hell of a body. Rachel's asking for you." 

Donald whistled under his breath. "A Red Rose already?" 

Rebecca shot him a distracted smile. "He works fast." 

Angel frowned, crossing his arms. "How do they get those roses anyway?" 

Rebecca paused, quiet, eyes narrowing. "Doesn't matter to you, Angel. Just go." 

She reached forward, and pushed him gently toward the door. 

Angel was quiet, not saying a word as he closed the door behind him, but mind already memorized what he had seen hidden on the inside of Rebecca's arm. 

A mystical pagan symbol in the form of a tattoo. 

--   



	4. Chapter Four

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigate a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for.   
-- 

Chapter Four 

"Last one," Gunn muttered, sliding the truck to the curb and yanking the stick to the right, setting it into park. 

Fred tossed him a distracted smile as she confirmed the address, breathing out slowly and leaning her head back against the seat. 

"Tired?" he asked, watching her for a second. 

"A little," she remarked. 

"Yeah, it was kind of a late night last night wasn't it?" 

She gave him a shy, gentle smile, and Gunn grinned back, eyes locking with hers for a second before taking in a 'work first' breath, opening the door and hopping down, moving around the side and opening the door for her as well. 

He held her hand a little longer than what was absolutely necessary, and when she didn't complain, he gave her a grin, and kept it there, squeezing her smaller palm and then moving up the steps to the small, modest, but nice house in the modest, but nice neighborhood. 

"A stripper lives here?" 

Fred gave a short chuckle, shaking her head. "Strippers are people too, Gunn." 

"And I ain't arguing that. But it does seem kinda… decent for a man who makes his money by shaking his bootie, is all." 

"Women are big tippers." 

"Don't even wanna ask how you know that." 

Fred shook her head, ignoring the look he gave her as they maintained the happy, awkward silence, knocking on the door. 

There was no answer. 

"Uh… Gunn?" 

"Yeap?" 

Fred crossed her arms, leaning into the shadow of the porch, giving her semi-friend-date-from-last-night a quizzical look. "Why are we knockin'? I mean if they were here they wouldn't be missing, would they?" 

The blank stare he gave her seemed almost comical, and she suppressed a smirk when he sighed, scratching as his hairless head. 

"Right, okay." He looked around the porch, checking around the quiet neighborhood, and finally grabbed a potted plant from the steps. "Step back." 

"What are you doing?!" 

"I'm gonna break in the door!" 

"Gunn," Fred looked down, caught a glint of a flash, and then carefully picked up the small key, waving it. 

Gunn paused, and then sighed as Fred fitted it into the lock, turning the knob and letting herself in. 

"You know, a lot of guys would be intimidated by a girl like you," he grumbled, shoulders slumping as he followed her in. 

"You think?" she whirled, looking almost worried, but the glint in the black man's eyes made her only narrow her own orbs, blushing as she closed the door behind him. 

Once inside, Gunn was suddenly all business, eyes sweeping over the house, hands in his pockets, careful at first not to touch a thing. 

"So refresh my memory," he began. "What do we know about this one?" 

"Umm…" Fred looked down at her file, trailing her index finger down to his spot, and began reading. "Jessie Matthews. Age twenty-six. He was employed at The Dancehall for six months before his disappearance." 

"Mmhmm…" Gunn moved to a small table, fingers moving to a stack of pictures still in the Kodak sleeve. 

"Disapeared roughly two weeks ago." Her eyes looked thoughtful as she looked at Gunn. "He was the last before Jennifer." 

"Hmm… Take a look at this." She came forward, taking the picture Gunn held out to her. 

Her eyes grew wide, shooting to Gunn as he nodded grimly. 

"So he and Jennifer were…" 

"Yeah." 

"Oh." She continued to study the picture, turning it over and finding something on the dresser also catching her eye. "Look." 

This time, a much less erotic Jennifer snuggled with Jessie, both smiling happily for the camera. 

"Oh." 

Gunn's face was somber as he fingered the frame, eyes darker. "He cared about her." 

"Looks like it." 

Looking into the picture, into the smiling face of their friend, made something well up into Fred's throat. The warmth in the picture seemed intrusive somehow, their seeing it a betrayal to something beautiful and sacred that was no longer- 

Jennifer was dead. 

Jessie was missing. 

In this moment in time, how could either of them have known that? 

A large, calloused, masculine hand slipped into hers, and Fred leaned thankfully, hands at first hesitant, and then welcoming as his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her closer into his large, muscled frame. 

Fred closed her eyes, shuddering against Gunn, when he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

"Come on," he said, after she had regained her composure. "We'll do this sweep really quickly and get out of here." 

"Good idea." The shyness had returned, but he didn't seem to mind it, skimming the side of her face with a gentle thumb as he offered her his own wry grin, before moving off, presumably to check the answering machine. 

Fred sank down onto the sofa, rifling through the scattered magazines and notes on the coffee table. 

"Weird," she muttered. 

"What?" she heard him call out. 

She shrugged, distracted, her thoughts tumbling out of her mouth before she could quite take the time to put them in order. 

"It's like a big game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. We've got these blindfolds and we've got this target but we just keep pokin' with the pins cause we don't know where the tail is. We're getting' somewhere but how do we- we don't know where we're getting'." 

"Oh." Gunn reappeared beside her, his expression a trifle hesitant as he sank down on the couch next to her, hands on his knees. "Well, Fred. I'm not sure where we're getting either, but I like it." 

Startled, she jerked her head and caught the wispy, gentle expression on his face. 

The sunny expression was lost on her until she realized what he meant. 

"I meant the case." 

There was a moment his face was completely unreadable, before a dark blush crept over his features, and he looked away, shuffling in that wonderful Gunn way that was beginning to make her a little more than squeamish. 

"Right. Me too. 'Cause umm… I like that we're getting somewhere, you know, and umm… the not knowing is kinda cool cause-" 

Fred startled even herself when she leaned forward compulsively, silencing Gunn's stammering with a surprisingly well placed kiss on his mouth. 

Awkward at first, she had no time to feel embarrassed for her forward action, because Gunn, with his ever quick reflexes, immediately leaned into the caress, taking over, tilting her head to the side with a hand on her chin, caressing her lips gently with his own. 

When they parted, her eyes were shining, and Gunn looked slightly dazed, but at the very least, he looked happy. 

-- 

Warm hands sneaked onto his skin, skimming into his pants, and Angel fought the urge to yelp, instead turning and offering the woman with the graying streaks in her hair that was badly covered up by hair dye a smile and a wink, stumbling back as quickly as he could to toss the tray on the bar, getting his ass pinched three more times in the process. 

"Two martinis and a strawberry daiquiri," he growled to the bartender, pulling at the bowtie, thankful when the lights went down and Rolando showed up onstage in his Zorro costume. 

Immediately, the screeching pounded into Angel's sensitive vampire ears, and he winced, moving away from the bar and into the darkness of the backstage hallway, sighing with relief when the noise was considerably lessened. 

Leaning against the wall, he allowed a small moment of solitude, before grimacing as he looked down at him. 

"Face it," he remarked to no on in particular. "This is an all time low." 

He rubbed at his face with his hands, moving into the back and found it surprisingly bare. 

Checking the time on the clock on the wall, Angel paused, studying the room, and looking toward Rebecca's office door. 

Rebecca's open office door. 

Taking in a breath, Angel began to move quickly, hand on the door knob, pushing the little it was open slightly until he was able to peer into the room. 

Only one side of the office was visible, with a long row of videotapes. 

Eyes narrowing, he peered into them, until movement from the other side of the room made him jerk backwards, closing the door and turning just as Brian walked through the doorway. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Brian snapped, looking irritated as he came forward, folding his bulky arms, and staring Angel in the eye. 

Angel cocked an eyebrow, feeling in no mood to play the blumbering fool as he straightened to his full height, and snapped back, "My butt was bruised. I was taking a breather." 

"You had your break." 

"So I took another one." 

Brian's eyes narrowed, and there was a glint before he responded, "Get back to work. Rachel and her little group are asking about you." 

"What the hell is so special about those Red Roses anyway?" 

"The only thing you need to know is you do whatever they want," Brian said, looking down at his clipboard. "They pay damn good money to get the goods, and we pay you damn well to make sure you deliver. As far as you're concerned those bitches are God. You'll see what I mean at the party. They tell you about it?" 

"Yeah." 

"Yeah. You'll be popular, they haven't had you yet." 

The flippant remark made Angel's eyes narrow in disgust, but he swallowed it down, only jerking a nod in Brian's direction and heading back toward the bar, casting another look toward the closed office door with the wall of unmarked videotapes. 

-- 

The door of Caritas creaked as it opened, and ever observant, Wesley noted that it had never been allowed to that point of rust. 

Walking through, the bar was still in shambles, crunches of glass beneath his feet making the sanctuary seem much less than that, and a warzone instead. 

The green demon who hosted the bar was standing in the middle of the deserted floor, a broom in one hand, wearing a face that was less than welcoming. 

"Well, it's Mr. Watchful and Sensitive," Lorne muttered, turning back to his activities, stuffing another broken glass into a plastic bag. 

"Bitter as ever, I see. Would you like some help?" Wesley said, reaching for another broom and running it through the debris. 

"Don't bother. I've got a clean up crew coming tomorrow." Lorne shrugged, sighing as he took another look at the deserted Caritas. "Not that this place will ever be the same." 

Wesley cast the place a grim gaze. He couldn't argue with that. The sanctuary had been permeated, broken. The veil of safety had been lifted. 

Nothing would ever be the same again. 

"I know why you're here, and trust me, nothing doing. I'm not reading anyone right now. Just hand the closed sign around my neck and I'm done," Lorne snapped, turning back to his duties. 

"We can pay for the damages," Wesley said. 

"We? Please, Wesley. Don't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault. That little compatriot of yours, Mr. Charles Gunn? Him I would like to have a word with, not you." 

Wesley grimaced, but said nothing. 

Lorne sighed, kneeling down, inspecting a broken martini glass. "My favorite one." 

"I'm sorry, Lorne." 

"Again- stop blaming yourself for things you didn't do? What do you want me to sound like, a record?" Lorne asked, eyes narrowing as he turned. 

Wesley was quiet, eyes turning toward the bar. "Would you like some tea?" 

"I'm not getting rid of you any time soon, am I?" Lorne asked. 

Wesley shook his head, moving through the rubbage and going behind the bar, starting up the small portable stove Lorne had set up temporarily. 

Lorne watched him, curious at first. 

"How's that little Fred, Wesley?" 

The British Ex-Watcher froze, before slowly returning to his task of putting the kettle on the small stove. "Doing quite well." 

"I see. Found a bit of romance, has she?" 

There was a forced, grim smile on Wesley's face, a false note of cheeriness. "Yes, as a matter of fact. With… Gunn." 

"Ah." Lorne moved toward the bar, leaning on the cracked wood as he studied Wesley. "Damn thing I hate about aura's like yours," he remarked. "They're like those little crickets. You know the crickets? Damn things get into the wood and you can't for the life of you find the thing. It's not that loud but it's incessant, chirping it's way, until you're listening for it, driving you mad because of one little cricket that you can never find. But it's in there. Chirping away." 

"You know for once I wish you'd give it to me straight without all these incessant riddles," Wesley snapped, turning around palms flat on the counter. 

Lorne took a glass, taking a sip, eyes leveled on Wesley's as he answered, "Sorry, but that's not how it works. Auras are complicated things. All spectrum of colors. Oh sure you have your grays, and your blacks and your whites but it's those damn colors that will get you. Those colors inside of you that you can never quite figure out." 

Wesley only stared, a stony expression on his face. 

Lorne regarded that, and sighed. "Fred was never meant to be yours, Wesley," he said finally, putting down the glass. "As much as you like the girl, the truth is? Gunn needs her more than you do. He's going to be tested, and compared to this little incident," he added angrily, waving his hand over the destroyed Caritas area, "he's going to need all the grounding force he can get." 

"Fred is Gunn's stability?" Wesley repeated. 

Lorne looked bitter, but he nodded. 

"Hmm." 

"Hard to swallow?" 

"I just… I always assumed Gunn would be the stability for Fred." 

"Either way, they've got a long hard road ahead of them. It's murky, but-" 

"I know I'm meant to be alone, Lorne," Wesley said, eyes dark and intense as he stared into Lorne's face almost beseechingly. "But-" 

"No one is MEANT to be alone, Wesley." Lorne looked tired, sighing as he stared into his coffee cup, twirling the murky liquid about. "Hell, even soul-ridden vampires get SEERS- the trouble with you Wesley is you can't be with anyone because you don't know yourself. You've repressed a part of you because you're afraid of it." 

"The evil-" 

"Are you stupid?" Lorne snapped, shutting Wesley up with an almost growl that was out of place on the bitter demon. "The past, Wesley. Face it. That's the key to your own personal crisis." 

Wesley frowned, eyes narrowing as Lorne ducked his head back into his coffee cup. 

"And yours?" 

"Don't mind me, Wesley," Lorne said, muttering into his cup. "I'm on my own beige arc. I'll still be here when push comes to shove." 

"Because?" 

"I have no choice," Lorne said, raising his eyebrow. "Can't ignore it- anymore than you can." 

Wesley nodded, pouring the tea, making a mental note to talk to Gunn about Lorne. 

Apologies and perhaps a bit of groveling were in order. 

He shuddered slightly. 

Anything but think of his own past. 

Of his own failure. 

-- 

The exhaustion seeped through his dead bones as he walked into the lobby, the rising sun on his heels. 

Angel paused in the quiet lobby of the Hyperion, eyes roving around the darkened lobby, noting it seemed empty. 

Fred, most likely asleep. Gunn and Wesley in their respective apartments. 

But the light was on in the basement, and curious, Angel moved his tired feet forward, discarding memories of lecherous women and happy woman with smiles of brightness and hope and fantasy from his mind as the music became audible now. 

Opening the door, he walked down the stairs, finding the sight that befell both heartwarming and disconcerting. 

Cordelia Chase, utterly unaware of his presence, continued to her dance movements to the music chosen for his piece, body sleek and graceful, and she dipped and twirled, utter lost in her own sense of rhythm and fantasy. 

He paused, hand on the rail, rapt in the attention he was giving his Seer, curious, wondering exactly what was going on in her mind, who she was picturing, who she was dancing for. 

The dance continued, her body sweaty, her warmth exhuming from her body, her scent alive and so very, very human. 

These were the moments when Angel never questioned the reality of his situation with Cordelia, what it was about her that no one else saw, that struck him and had nearly avoided him until he had forced her out and truly began to see her. 

It was strength, it was gentleness. It was tenderness. It was beauty hidden in thorns. 

When her eyes opened, he jumped in sync with her startled shriek, dreamy expression withering to one of apologetic regret as he stumbled back up the stairs. 

"Oh, sorry- I didn't mean- the music and the door and-" 

"Angel!" He paused, looking to her uncertainly, but she only took a breath, grabbing her water bottle and her towel and motioning him down the stairs. "It's okay, I was waiting for you." 

"Oh." Coming down the stairs, he paused, eyes roving around the room, looking at her curiously. 

"How was work? Learn anything interesting?" 

He stood still, hands in his pockets as she moved about the room, rifling through a set of CD's. 

His mind filtered through the events and he immediately began to speak, all business. "The Red Roses." 

"Hmm?" 

"The Red Roses- they're a group- Rebecca's favorite customers. They hold a party for them. Some sort of orgy or something. Exclusive group. I have to go." 

She was quiet, hazel eyes meeting his. They stayed like that, and he was still, letting her mind process the information, not quite sure what to expect. 

"You're basic high priced orgy?" she flatly asked. 

He gave a hesitant nod, and waited for the outburst. 

None came. Instead Cordelia only shrugged methodically, and answered, "Well I guess I'll just have to become a Red Rose. Come here." 

"Cordelia it might be a little harder than-" 

"No it won't, not for me. I'll take care of it tomorrow. Come here." 

She came forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the center of the room, reaching around him and pulling off the heavy leather jacket, tossing it over the railing before moving back to the CD player, opening one jewel case, talking all the while with her back to him. 

"I was trying to figure out what was making you so stiff, you know? I mean- okay, not that stiff," she threw over the shoulder, when he shifted uncomfortably. Blithely, he wondered if they were even going to mention that, but she only added, "I'm female, you're male, we were making with the sexy dancing, it was going to happen one way or another, and that's the end of that." 

"Right." 

"Right. I'm talking about body wise," she said, turning, leaning against the table, crossing her arms. "You know, wondering why some people have the movement, why you… Angel you're comfortable with your body, right?" 

He gave her a blank stare. 

"After being Angelus for so many years you have to be. And you're Mr. Warrior Guy who knows all these nifty sword things so of course you know how to manipulate your body." She came forward, her hands now on his forearms, looking up at him. "Right?" 

Still not quite sure where this was going, Angel once again nodded. 

The vampire had learned from experience that Cordelia-logic required a bit of patience, if one was to get anywhere with it. 

Thankfully, once she got there, there were occasionally startling bits of clarity that both astounded and befuddled him. 

All part of the fascinating puzzle that was his Cordelia Chase. 

"Well I know what's stopping you. You've repressed that part of yourself, and that I helped with all the … eunuchy comments – and I'm not saying go and get laid, but-" 

"You want me to let that out?" Angel immediately asked, worry creasing his brow. "Cordelia-" 

"Angel," she shook her head slightly. "I mean the part when you enjoy being that … sexual. The part where you… You look good, and you know you do and, you know that other people … WANT_" she trailed off, frustrated, and then came back to him. "Angel, do you know why I'm so comfortable with you?" 

"I keep you safe." 

"No! I mean yes, but- the way you look at me sometimes." She offered an almost nervous smile as his hands skimmed up hers, tangling their fingers unconsciously as his dark, intense eyes focused completely on her face. "You look at me like… there's no one else, ever. And anything I say or do at that moment… it's okay. I can… cross my legs and in that movement I KNOW you react. I feel…" 

"Cordelia." His face was gentle, but his smile was almost mischievous, as his fingers traced up her long neck, smoothing over her jawbone, silken smooth under his fingertips. "There IS no one else then." 

It was quiet, as both eyes focused, gazed, feasted on the other's face. 

"Do I… make you feel the same way?" 

The voice was nervous, but his husky, "Yes" was all she needed for her smile to return to her face. 

Lines were drawn, blurred, and once again the pair managed to work through something without ever saying a word. 

Angel knew eventually they would have to talk about it, to discuss what it was that was happening between them, but he also knew that the moment words were spoken, reality would pervade with it. 

The reality of a soul with a curse. 

The reality of a mortal laden with visions her young body could not handle. 

The reality of a future together – and a future apart. 

No, there would be no discussion now. 

Her fingers squeezed in his, and she whispered, hazel eyes shining brilliant, "Then when you dance, dance for me, Angel. Not any one else. When you're on the stage, when you're in this room, know that I'm watching, and nothing, you could do, could not be beautiful, and not be gorgeous, and not fill me with…" 

One hand untangled from hers to run through the light blonde highlighted strands. The smile that quirked across the vampire's lips ran of mischief and hidden joy, but it was the love within it that made her breathless, as he lifted one palm and pressed his lips against it, and moved forward, pushing her back, step by step, until she was seated in a chair. 

His hands left hers, but his eyes never moved from her own, as he turned the knob up, until the music was loud and sensual and pulsing. 

In her gaze he basked as his body began to move, the sexuality in the room impermeable, as the buttons were removed slowly, tantalizingly slow, for Cordelia's benefit. 

There was no one else in the room, but only the hazel eyes that feasted on him hungrily, blatant need, unconsummated lust, and undeniable love in his Seer's orbs as the shirt was shrugged off, as he continued to move. 

The demon within rejoiced in what little it was given, the sinfulness of the erotic dance, drinking in what the soul allowed with indulgence, and the movements continued, hands at the belt, eyes dark and dangerous and glittering. 

A leather belt was dropped on the floor, hands were now at his zipper, and he heard her quick intake of breath, the heavy breathing and her choked breath. 

"Stop." 

He froze, self confidence fading to be replaced with insecurity, the unzipped pants suddenly looking foolish, but Cordelia only rushed forward, palms sliding up his sweaty chest to cradle his face, and her body was warm and flushed and so very vibrant and alive. 

Arousal colored her cheeks and made her eyes glitter as she gasped, "You can't finish it here," she whispered, eyes moving around the basement where there was only then and no one else to stop- 

Her hands were shaking as she fumbled with his zipper, carefully pulling up and shakily rebuttoning. 

Her eyes looked up and he swallowed, knowing she could feel his own hardening shaft against her belly, but she still buried herself in his arms, taking in a shuddering breath and holding him close. 

He closed his eyes, pressing his cheek against the crown of her hair, hands gently smoothing down her back. 

She gave a short, grim chuckle. 

He managed a smile of his own. "What?" 

"You better damn well do a much worse job of that when you do it for real, Angel," she said shakily, "Or I'll kick the ass of every one of those women and-" 

"You think I got it down?" 

Her grin was morose and just a trifle bit proud, albeit a little shaky. 

"I'd say so." 

The laughter that coursed through her was infectious, and the chuckle that rumbled through Angel's was no less shaky, but it was almost peaceful, despite the repercussions of the dance they had been playing finally coming to a somewhat awkward head. 

No discussion now, no reality now. 

No sex, and no kissing. 

Just holding, almost as if this was something they were allowed to do everyday and all day. 

Almost. But it was the almost that counted.   



	5. Chapter Five

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
Chapter Five   
-- 

At times Wesley wondered if he was the only one who regretted the group decision to put him in charge. 

Standing around the counter, everyone's faces contained nothing but pure resolve. There was more function, more cohesiveness since his ascension to power, and Wesley wondered if that was because of his lack of leadership or because of his 'ability' to allow the team to rely on their own resourcefulness. 

True enough, there was none of the 'glare and stare' method that Angel used to prefer during his reign as the head of Angel Investigations, and the group, on large decisions, still accepted the orders from his mouth with out argument. 

It seemed almost, however, that the group by and large only granted him his place when… they seemed up to it. 

Wesley had come to accept that there were circumstances when Angel took orders from no one, and he allowed that Cordelia took orders from any of them only when she felt like it. 

The insecurities of the recent events had given Wesley an edge, he knew that, with his solemn, grim demeanor that made them all look at him as if he were at an abyss, teetering on the edge. 

Today he managed only a grim smile, nodding as he gulped down the rest of the tea and set it aside, wiping at his glasses and clearing his throat. 

"Well then, shall we catch up? Fred? Gunn?" 

Fred immediately looked to the taller man, and Gunn, caught in the middle of munching on a piece of toast, gave Wesley a slightly panicked look, hurriedly reaching for a glass of water to wash it down. 

"We found out that Jessie and Jennifer were close," Fred finally said, taking pity on her co-worker, patting his hand helpfully. 

"Close?" 

"Lovers," Gunn managed to choke out, fully prepared to wipe his hand with his mouth until Fred stopped him, handed him a napkin instead. 

The look that passed between them twisted something inside Wesley, but he didn't comment. 

"We found these." Gunn dropped an envelope on the counter, letting Wesley reach over to pick it up, Cordelia and Angel both moving over his shoulder to pick them up. 

They were silent as the trio looked. 

Cordelia spoke first. 

"Wow. Those are almost good enough to be on the internet." 

"They already are," Gunn muttered. "I checked for research!" he added hastily when everyone looked at him. He blushed further when Wesley cocked an eyebrow and immediately pushed Fred in front of him, as if her smaller body could hide his larger frame. "Ask her." 

Fred just shook her head and continued with her explanation. "He disappeared without a trace. All his clothes, messages unanswered…" 

"And nothing suspicious there either," Gunn added, leaning forward. "There was even a message from Jennifer, asking him if they were meeting up that night like they planned." 

"Did you happen to-" Gunn placed the cassette into Wesley's hands. 

"There you go, bro." He winked. 

"I can ask about the stripper tonight," Angel offered, placing his hands on the table. 

Wesley nodded, eyes focused on the counter. "Cordelia?" 

"Don't worry, I'm all set on my end. I'll be making my appearance as the 'rich bitch' tonight as well." Her face defied the chipperness of her voice, looking strained and a little tense. "I'll keep an eye on this Rebecca girl and of course, try to get into the secret society." 

"Be careful." 

"I'll be watching her," Angel assured Wesley. 

"Not as much as I'll be watching him," Cordelia shot back, and when Angel blinked, she only winked, causing him to smile down at his hands. 

"Well," Wesley began in the silence that followed, suddenly feeling like a mismatched fifth wheel. "We need more information. I'll look up this symbol that Angel gave me." He fingered the sketch, eyes narrowing as the turned the tattoo over, "But I can say it looks like nothing I've encountered in my books before." 

"Fred and I will keep looking over this whole Jessie/Jennifer connection," Gunn said. 

Wesley smiled as the group all nodded, assignments in place. 

"Then let's be off." 

Cordelia immediately moved to the stairs, followed by Angel, Gunn to the lounge to grab his coat, leaving little Fred, who stared at Wesley with a hesitant, nervous expression on her face. 

Wesley sat at his desk, worked for a minute, and finally looked up to find Fred still staring at him. 

A small, gentle smile caressed his features and he asked, "Something on your mind?" 

"Oh! Am I botherin' ya! I can go, I mean-" 

"Fred, of course you're not bothering me, please, sit." He pulled open the chair on the side, and she sat, hands now fidgeting in her lap. 

He sat back in his chair, almost amused at the anxiousness had it not been for her eyes. 

"Fred? What is it?" 

"I umm… well I would talk to Cordelia about this- but you know- and-" 

"Fred whatever it is, I'm sure I can help." 

"I wanna get somethin' fer Gunn." 

Wesley paused, blank shock filling his features for a second before she continued with her fidgety hands, "His birthday's coming up in a few weeks." 

"It is?!" 

Fred nodded, licking her lips and leaning forward. "I just found out… he's very private." 

"Obviously," Wesley muttered, shifting in his chair, more bothered than he wanted to admit at not knowing. 

Fred was quiet, and her face twisted into a delicate frown as she finally shifted in her seat, and sighed. "I've never had a boyfriend like Gunn, Wesley." 

"Boyfriend?" he repeated, eyes jerking up to meet with hers. 

Her palm slid to her mouth as her expression turned horrified. "I'm jumping the gun, aren't I?" she breathed. "There I go all assumin' things and-" 

"Fred-" 

"It's only been a date and a couple of kisses- okay three- four but that's all and well why would we-" 

"Fred-" 

"Ah mean Gunn prolly has lotsa girls-" 

"FRED!" Wesley reached forward, grabbing her by the shoulders. When she jumped slightly, he flushed, jerking his hands away. 

"Yes?" 

"Gunn likes you," Wesley finally said, moving back to the chair, swallowing down the confliction. "All right?" 

"Gunn likes you a lot." Fred squeaked, and whirled around to find the large black man leaning against the doorway, a quirk of a smirk on his lips. 

"CHARLES!" 

"Hey, baby doll." He came forward, holding out her coat as she stood shakily, almost quaking in her boots. 

"You didn't happen to hear-" 

"Every word," he confirmed, smiling at her. "And feel free to throw that word 'boyfriend' around a lot more." 

She gave a small whimper as he chucked her chin gently, settling her coat around her shoulders and then wrapping his arm around them as well. 

Wesley watched them go, and despite the lonely ache in his heart, he couldn't help but smile, just a little. 

-- 

Male bonding was something Angel never did well. 

The vampire had very logical reasons for not getting involved with other members of the human race: that being that he was well… a vampire. 

Humans were food. 

The demonic impulses that once roared into his ears had now dulled slightly, Angel had come to appreciate that thanks to the friends he had inherited- human friends. 

Every day with human bodies had lessened the impulse, the demon still pounding away inside of him, but the resistance had grown stronger, with Cordelia in his arms, Wesley and Gunn's scent in the air, Fred's complete obliviousness and determination not to fear him, what he was. 

He knew Cordelia and Gunn never forgot what he was. 

He never forgot what he was. 

He had no choice. 

Standing in the room with the half naked men, some who boasted about the conquests they made, others who simply came into the room to change and then went about their business, Angel began to wonder exactly how adapted to this type of reality he really was. 

Humans, with their heartbeats and their scents and their male dominance issues. 

He sat in the corner, eyes narrowed as his eyes roved over the different floor boys, lesser men than he, he knew, the way they moved away from him, almost as if afraid of his presence. 

All except Brian, who came to his side of the mirror, nodded his head indifferently and began to run a comb through his hair. 

"Where the hell is the gell?" 

"Oh." Angel jerked, shifted under his 'tools' and produced the desired bottle of gel. 

Brian plucked the bottle away from Angel and shot him a glare, shaking his head. 

"Ever try to be sociable, man?" he muttered. 

Angel was quiet, eyes moving around the men. "It's not my style." 

Brian snorted, burying his face into a towel. "Yeah, man. Whatever." 

Angel considered, eyes locking onto Brian's frame. "Hey. I used to know a guy that worked here. Jesse." 

Brian froze, hands moving away from his face, expression wary. "How'd you know him?" 

"Mutual friends." 

The dark eyes riveted onto Angel's own, swirling with what seemed a hidden agenda, before the black man pursed his lips and shook his head slightly. "Quit a couple weeks back." 

"Oh." 

"Yeah." 

"Wouldn't happen to know where he went?" 

"If you're such good friends wouldn't he have told you?" Brian snapped. 

Angel sighed, nodding. "Yeah okay." 

"Get to work." 

One of these days Brian was going to find himself impaled to the wall with a pair of Argentinian hunting knives. 

Giving a growl so low it was barely perceptible, he shifted off the counter, heading toward the door when Rolando burst through the door. 

"Check out the latest mamacita," he winked and closed the door. 

The men all gave a look, and suddenly everyone moved to the entrance. 

The vampire followed, eyes narrowed as he pushed past the men, opening the door, letting the loud, pulsing music drift into his ears. 

His eyes searched the room, not finding anything out of the ordinary until he sniffed, and a very familiar scent pervaded his nostrils. 

His body rigid, Angel pushed the other men out of the way, eyes searching and finally locking on one Cordelia Chase. 

His best friend had never looked so much like a sex kitten. 

Dressed in blood red, Cordelia's dressed was long, slinky, and tight. 

She took a step forward, and it became apparent that the slit that ran up her left leg was high, too high in his opinion. Angel's hands clenched into fists as Cordelia cast a sultry glance around the club, eyes darkened with makeup and lipstick red and sexy as sin. 

This wasn't his Cordelia Chase. 

In her eyes was a dark glare, in her walk was an authority that presided over the entire room, as she took another step and the slit parted to reveal more of the milky, silken thigh, calves accented by the red high heels, and hair spilling over in tumbling curls. 

Curls?! 

Angel blinked again, trying to figure out how the hell Cordelia's hair had grown in the space of half a day. 

Every step she took seemed familiar some how, and Angel turned his head, cocking, trying to place when on earth he had seen his Seer work a room like she did now. 

When she moved past a group of screaming women, arched an eyebrow at the half naked man dancing and then turned away with ill disguised boredom, the clarity hit Angel in the gut. 

Queen Cordelia of Sunnydale High had just entered the building. 

Behind him he heard muttering, the usual comments from the men he worked with, and this time he stifled the urge to rip every single head off, reminding himself blatantly that he wasn't supposed to care about … her. 

Not here. Not now. 

Even if every fiber in his being screamed for possession. 

"New player?" 

The feminine voice made him turn, and Angel nodded, not moving from the palm placed on his bare shoulder, looking back to where Cordelia sat, in the darkest corner, looking conspicuous as hell and not giving a damn. 

"Showed up in a limo," he heard behind him. "That's what Maury said." 

"Hmm." The wheels in Rebecca's head were already turning, and she smirked, as her gaze fixed on Cordelia Chase, palm squeezing Angel's shoulder. "She's a hottie." 

Angel managed a pained smile and that was all. 

"Angel," she said breezily, "Let's get her a drink." She quirked her finger and he followed behind her, picking up a tray and avoiding more butt pinches as they weaved their way around the circular tables, ending at the table where Cordelia, finally being bothered enough to notice them, only gave Rebecca another trademarked arched eyebrow. 

-- 

She had never realized just how soft she had become until Cordelia had been forced to regress to her former bitch queen self. 

Despite the accomplished actress she had become, there had been a little bit of an ache as Cordelia stepped outside of the limousine, taking the hand of the valet and walking forward, the expensive dress sliding effortlessly against her skin, head held high. 

It was a state of mind, a lack of utter concern for other's opinions and the knowledge that you were the best damned looking person in the room. 

She had forgotten how… nice feeling like this was. The walls safe and protected, icy exterior that kept everything out. 

All the pain, all the emotions- the lust and need for awareness the only fuel one needed. 

And when she stepped into the club, alone and tall and untouchable, she realized why she hadn't missed it that much. 

The loneliness that came with it- it was difficult to step into a room and be completely alone. 

She had forgotten about that. 

But she swallowed down the emotion, absorbed the stares and used them, as she gazed at the crowds of women, allowed herself to feel the disdain for their petty inferiority and moved to her own table – HER table, claimed before she had even entered, because she was royalty. 

Her hazel eyes were cold as they moved over the other woman in her room, the other women who were just like her, rivals in bitterness, callous cold longing for any kind of connection. 

They were all here for the same reason, weren't they? 

In the other plush chairs, red roses pinned to their cleavage, they were there, eyeing her over glasses of champagne, in Gucchi shoes and Prada purses. 

She stared back, knowing the power struggle, savoring it, remembering it well. 

Her heart beat inside of her, and when the woman in the dark black suit came forward she was expecting it. 

What she was not expecting was Angel right behind her. 

Her breath sucked in and Cordelia nearly trembled, but her face revealed nothing, as she only smiled primly, nodding her head as the woman who was obviously the owner settled down across from her, a curious, overtly friendly smile on her face. 

"I haven't seen you here before." 

"Not surprising considering it's my first time," she answered easily, meeting the woman's hand for a brief, firm, delicate shake. "Victoria Chase." 

"Rebecca Hull. Do you mind?" 

"Please." Rebecca sat, crossing her arms and staring at Cordelia, eyes flecked with unabashed interest. "It's our custom, first drinks on the house. This is Angel, he'll take your order." 

Cordelia's eyes finally shifted to meet the familiar darkness of her friend's. Angel stood, a smirk that reminded her just a little of Angelus as he cocked his head, the tray in his hands. 

"Let me guess," he drawled, as her eyes raked appreciatively over his body. "Apple martini?" 

The intensity in his gaze made her shiver, and Cordelia had to smile, forcing herself to restrain her movement to only a nod, turning back to the hostess. 

Rebecca wore a knowing grin. 

"Same for me." 

Angel nodded, moving back, weaving his way through the crowd. Cordelia took a breath, swallowing, eyes unconsciously marking every ripple of the muscle of his back, every turn, and every woman that turned to look in his direction. 

"Quite a specimen isn't he?" Rebecca chuckled, turning to watch him go. 

Cordelia forced another lazy smile on her face, nodding, almost cursing herself as she felt the heat of her face giving away the blush. 

"This is a beautiful place you have, Rebecca. And I don't just mean the men." 

"Though they are high contenders. How did you hear about us?" 

Cordelia let the lie slip easily off her tongue, flippant and almost disinterested. "My boyfriend flew me in, but of course he had a meeting, and I was left to entertain myself. The concierge filled me in." 

"Mmm. What hotel?" 

"Le Meridian." 

"Beverly Hills." 

"I wouldn't stay anywhere else." Cordelia smiled, reaching into her purse and extracting a twenty, flipping it on the tray as Angel set the drinks down, again letting their eyes connect. 

The thump of her heart was easy to ignore as her mind went to work, knowing that a woman like Rebecca was already filing that information away in her brain, most likely to check up on as soon as she left Cordelia's presence, and once again Cordelia mentally thanked David Nabbit for his connections. 

The lights went down and the music filled the air, distracting Cordelia, and Rebecca smiled. "Well, I'll leave you to enjoy the show." 

"Thank you Rebecca. Nice meeting you." 

"Likewise, I hope you enjoy your stay." 

Cordelia's eyes again connected with Angel's, and this time, she made sure Rebecca heard the breezy, husky tone, the smile that slid on her features almost wolfish as she remarked, "I'll make a point of it." 

Rebecca noted it, and Cordelia leaned back, raising the martini to her lips, watching Angel as he moved away, dark eyes on her, always on her. 

He was concerned, she could catch it, but it was only a split second before he left her to play his own part, moving with Rebecca's prodding to the group of Red Roses that were seated on the other side. 

Cordelia took the moment to study the room. 

Dark, it was clear that the feudal layout was not accidental. 

The entire place was posh illustrated. Woman wore dresses, the working men all wore bow ties, despite the fact they wore little else. 

Woman with less money crowded to the front of the stage, jostling and whistling and laughing with other, waving dollar bills for the men on the stage. 

The men took their time, however, for the woman in the elevated platforms, seated in darkened corners, their tables large and luxurious. 

The woman who didn't scream, but watched coolly, almost as if assessing their surroundings as if at an auction. 

Cordelia memorized the glances they gave the men, the cool way they looked them up and down, the way they clasped Rebecca's hands as equals, clients… 

It was clear which group she needed to be a part of, and when Rebecca turned and gave her another study, Cordelia just licked her lips and smirked just a little. 

She was well on her way. 

-- 

The cool demeanor on the woman who gave him such smiles was amusing to a point. 

It also made him ache. 

The two encounters with Cordelia, watched closely by Rebecca, had left him shaking with need and a little bit of anger. 

Angel gave a slight sigh, and turned away, moving away from Cordelia, and decided to keep away for the rest of the night. 

His control was fragile, and the result of this particular mission would be great jeopardized if he continued the flirtation. 

He couldn't go near Cordelia after that, the Red Roses dominated his time, as the women with the roses on their ample cleavage, with their expensive perfumes and gold glittered rings, slid hands over his palms, over his back, whispering in his ear and sliding hands into his pockets. 

The urge to jump away at the violations had died the first night, and Angel only moved away, smiling as the pretty young rich married girl kept her hand on his thigh, definitely wanting more than a drink. 

And still, his Cordelia did not look. Her eyes were still inspecting the room, fingers curled delicately around the stem of her martini, sipping it with those blood red lips of hers, eyes floating over the men who attended her with mild interest. 

To see the look coming from her was disconcerting, twisting something inside of him and again he turned away when the fingernails of Rachel delicately raked up his forearm. 

Her palm wrapped around his wrist with surprising force, and suddenly his lips were on hers, her tongue forcing her way inside his mouth. 

Stilling the shock, Angel growled slightly, giving her one harsh kiss and then pulling back, grateful when Rebecca appeared, shaking her finger at Rachel. 

"Naughty, naughty, Rachel," she said with a laugh. "That's not how we do things." 

Angel gave a shrug, plastering a grin on his face before turning, muttering something about a break to the bartender and letting the scowl float over his face as he moved to the side exit. 

In the cold, night air, he could finally breathe, and although he had no physical need for it, he did, taking in the cold air into his dead lungs in an attempt to clear his frazzled head. 

Her scent was almost immediate, and he turned, eyes catching hazel as she closed the door behind him, on her face confliction and unreadable anger before she suddenly came forward. 

Her body pressed against his and her hands cradled his head in a strong grip as she leaned up. 

His lips were plundered, soft skin moving against him that hit him with such emotion he trembled, eyes closing and immediately wrapping his hands around Cordelia's slim waist, pulling her closer to him still, gathering cloth into fist as his lips continued to move possessively on hers. 

When she broke away, she was gasping, her eyes were glittering and the intensity in her stare made him burn, harden against her. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, fingers trembling against his face, caressing his lips gently. "I know that- but I just… wanted to be sure… of you-" 

He gave her no other time to speak, instead he pulled her up firmly against him, dipping his head again and catching her lips with a low moan, pushing forward until she was pressed against the brick of the building, her body flush against his. 

Her kiss was searing, hot liquid that coarsed through him as he kept her pressed against him, legs moving around his waist, leaving his hands free to roam over his best friend's body, tight and hot and sweet. 

Fingers crept around his neck, her lips broke free for one ragged gasp before they were on his again, moving against his with such ferocity, passion and confliction. 

"Ahem." 

The outside voice broke their bubble, and Angel froze, burying his face into Cordelia's shoulder, felt her stiffen against him, knowing she felt the problem, because she kept her hand on the nape of his neck, hiding the ridges of his face in the crook of her neck as she spoke to their interrupter. 

"Rebecca." 

The angry moan almost escaped, came out a whimper, as he pushed down the game face, rubbing his face against Cordelia's shoulder and finally pushing her back, letting her go to regard Rebecca's angry stony face. 

-- 

SHIT. 

Angel's hands were gentle on Cordelia's waist as she was let down, and she had no time to bother with shaky knees or her rapidly beating heart as the club owner gave them both a glare. 

"Angel. You know the rules." 

Cordelia's eyes shot to Angel, but he only gave an uncaring shrug, a sheepish smile on his face that said, 'Can you blame me?' 

"The rules?" 

Rebecca crossed her arms, her voice cold as she said, "We don't allow this. This is a business." 

"Oh." Cordelia smoothed down her dress, licking her lips and leaning against the wall, letting the stone cold face take over. 

"She didn't know," Angel said quickly. 

"But you did." Rebecca was quiet, her one no nonsense as she motioned to the door. "Get inside. Rachel's asking for you." 

He ducked his head, careful not to meet Cordelia's eyes as he moved around her and to the doorway. 

"Angel." 

He paused, and Rebecca didn't take her eyes of Cordelia as she added, "Another incident like this and you're fired." 

He nodded, indicated he understood, and when he entered the club, Cordelia was left with the pieces. 

She pulled out her compact, checking her hair and reapplying her lipstick as she said flippantly, "I didn't know, I'm sorry." 

"You're new, you're entitled." 

Cordelia's eyes flickered to Rebecca's, and a small smirk floated on her lips. "You've got a damn hot Floorboy, Rebecca." 

"Mmm. I noticed you eyeing him." 

Cordelia shrugged. 

The hostess leaned against the club. "So how's David Nabbit?" 

Cordelia's head swiveled and when Rebecca smiled, Cordelia only nodded. "I'm impressed." 

"I have good connections." 

"David is just fine. He's in a meeting again. He doesn't ask what I do, I don't complain about the long hours." Cordelia's voice was low, husky, but her face betrayed none of her inner turmoil, and Cordelia had to concede, she was a damn good actress. 

"How long are you in town?" 

"A week," Cordelia answered breezily. "Just here for a little fun." 

Rebecca nodded, and then pushed away from the building, walking to the door. 

She paused, her face clearly indicated that she was thinking, before she turned back to Cordelia. 

"How about a little more fun?" Her cocked eyebrow indicated her curiosity, and Rebecca smiled, white teeth almost gleaming as she pushed a bang out of her face. "An intimate affair at Donald's." 

"Donald's?" 

"My partner."   
  
"How intimate?" Cordelia asked. 

The grin became clever, stunning almost on Rebecca's face. "Almost intimate enough for two. The entrance fee is a little steep but, I can guarantee, a slightly more comfortable arrangement with Angel." 

Rebecca didn't spell it out, and that was part of the test, Cordelia knew. She worked it out for herself, knowing what Rebecca was proposing, and pretending to consider the offer. 

"I get a guarantee with Angel?" 

"You have my word." 

Cordelia smiled, a prim smile of a cat who had just swallowed a canary. "I'm in." 

"Great. I'll send the invitation to your hotel." Rebecca turned back, and once again faltered, before turning back. "One more thing." Her hand moved to her lapel and she plucked off the red rose, placing it into Cordelia's hand with a pin. "You'll need this. See you inside." 

The door closed behind her, and Cordelia was left in the alley, holding the red rose in her palm. 

-- 

Donald shifted his feet, wincing at the crash as he turned, seeing the ice sculpture now in two pieces on the floor. 

The servant gave him a panicked look, and the older man rolled his eyes, breathing out a heavy sigh. 

"Pick it up, and it comes out of your paycheck." 

The servant nodded, and motioned to another man, as the two men carried the broken ice sculpture out of the room. 

Donald moved into the center of the room, eyeing the couches and the tables that were set up. 

Intimate affair his ass… 

"Every time she plans these things they get-" The cellphone rang, and with an almost growl, Donald yanked it out of his pocket. "Hello?" 

"Donald." 

"What?" 

"How're the preparations?" 

He muffled a curse. "We just lost the ice sculpture." 

"Well, I would worry. It's not like these women come for the food." 

"Right." He shook his head. 

"Make room for one more. And I want the special room." 

"Oooh. Sounds promising." 

"She's got potential." He heard the chuckle, could almost picture his partner leaning back in her office chair. "And it'll be Angel's first time." 

"The new guy? He's fast." 

"He gets the job done." 

"We'll see." He clicked the phone shut, and moved forward, jogging up the stairs, past the row of bedrooms, feet sinking into the lush carpet and moving into the inconspicuous room on the left. 

Once inside, he took a breath, and looked over the room. 

Flipping on the light, he viewed every monitor, rechecked the wires, and made sure that every monitor had a clear view of every bed in every suite. 

He nodded. 

Every camera was working. 

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to the door, and let himself out, locking the surveillance room behind him. 

--   
  



	6. Chapter Six

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
Chapter Six   
-- 

If his heart could beat, he guessed it would most likely be pounding right about this minute. 

Angel leaned against the closed door, eyes drifting closed and reopening as he fought the urge to pull it open and reconfront Rebecca. 

Cordelia could handle herself, she could handle the situation and use it to her advantage. He had come to expect that from her. 

He had come to trust that in her. 

With a deep breath in, he shoved away from the door, pulling at the collar with the bowtie in disgust, steps faltering when he realized where he was. 

Rebecca was outside, and Cordelia was keeping her occupied. 

And Rebecca's office was wide open. 

Angel paused, morphing into vampire face briefly to take a deep breath in, sniffing the air for intruders. 

Finding none, he quickly moved to the office, reaching inside quickly to snatch a tape from the wall and move back to the dressing room. 

He didn't see the camera following his every move. 

-- 

The trouble with details was that there was always so many. 

Fred Burkle squinted, taking in a breath and pushing her pencil further into the pencil sharpener, grateful for the mechanical whir that accompanied the grating of the pencil. 

Pulling it out, she studied the sharp point, found it to her liking and turned back to her notes, pages and pages that she had written herself. 

A computer was a wonderful tool, but there was still the click that Fred searched for, the one nanosecond where everything made sense. 

Nothing was right unless it made sense, and this case wasn't right. Nothing was right with this case. 

The details were there, in the writing, the connections, possible and improbable, scrawled out beneath them, and they were all connected within the sheaves, there was a connection and possibility and it was only a matter of time before she found it. 

The thump, thump in the next room was tuned out, and it was only when her eyes drifted up because she was living in equations did she realize Gunn was still in the hotel. 

Her mind still swimming with possible connections and clicks, she didn't register the fact right away, instead looking back down at the papers and muttering to herself quietly. 

"8:29, he left the club, 9:00 she was shot… he was last seen at 8:45 and she was ten blocks from his house…" 

Sitting up, she pushed the chair over to the map on Wesley's desk, frowning as she took her pencil, and a compass, and carefully drew a circle over the area, pushing a thumbtack into both areas, and another at the club. 

Pursing her lips, she stared, pushing up her glasses, trying to find the pattern, the rhythm. 

There was something in the other disturbances… a pattern… a switch… 

It wafted through her mind as her fingers grazed over each thumbtack, each disappearance… 

The club should have been at the center. 

But it wasn't. 

The center was- 

"OWW!" Jerked out of her click, Fred suddenly pushed away from the table, stumbling to the door and peeking out, panic flitting over her features. 

"Gunn?" 

Her boyfriend was standing in the middle of the lobby, holding a bloody hand, pain etching on his features. 

"Charles! What did you…" Coming forward, she carefully took his fingers in her palm, studying the ragged cut. 

"It's nothin' Fred," he insisted, trying to jerk his hand away. 

But Fred was already wiping, reaching with her free hand to Cordelia's desk, finding a Kleenex. "Are you all right?" 

"Just got knicked by a dart, it's stupid." Charles had a sheepish expression on his face, but Fred caught none of it, too caught up in her own concern. 

Frowning, she rubbed at the cut, wincing at his indrawn hiss, and looking up with a frown. "You're right, it's not that bad." 

At that, Gunn's face fell a little. "No, huh?" 

She gave him a small smile. "I once had my arm almost severed from my shoulder in Pylea," she drawled, giving a half shrug. 

His face changed immediately. "Oooh. And Ouch." Her fingers tightened around his palm and she gave him a smile, expression softening slightly when he grazed her cheek and gave her a sincere grin. 

"I've never met anyone like you, you know that?" 

The warmth that came so easily with Gunn flooded through her again, and Fred gave a slight sigh, before suddenly the click came again and her eyes widened. 

"OH!" 

Moving back, she rushed out of the lobby and into Wesley's office, sliding back into her chair and shuffling through her papers. 

"Fred?" 

"Jennifer wasn't like the others!" she began excitedly. "She wasn't rich, and well… male obviously, and she wasn't a stripper, and she was new… the others were rich and had been coming to a club and no bodies had been found!" 

She looked up with eyes glittering as Gunn listened, hands in his pockets, but attentive. 

"You see she was different than the others, and the key is in that! The key is in this Jesse guy…" Moving back to the map, she quickly began drawing circles, and then quick, short lines. "Jennifer is the connection… but to what?" 

Straightening up, she found herself yawning, hand reaching up to cover her mouth as she closed her eyes in frustration, mind whirling but tired, refusing to want to try and keep up with her rambling thoughts. 

Large hands fell on her small shoulders, and Fred leaned back grateful, letting out a soft sigh of contentment as Gunn began to knead into her tired muscles. 

"You realize it's almost three in the morning, right? You're running without a full tank of gas, Fred." 

She gave a small whine of protest, shaking her head emphatically, "But the click-" 

"Will still be there tomorrow," he said gently, turning her until she was facing him. A soft grin slid over his handsome features and he chucked her chin. "Come on girl, a few hours of sleep won't kill you. Wes and you and me will figure this whole thing out tomorrow." 

"But-" 

"You ain't alone here anymore, Fred. We'll figure this out together tomorrow." 

The statement brought a smile to her lips, and she found herself slumping her shoulders in defeat, letting out a sigh and allowing Gunn to lead her out into the lobby. 

The door opened, and the couple looked up curiously as Cordelia entered the room. 

The hazel eyed ex-princess looked tired in her beautiful dress with beautiful curls, and despite the obvious beauty, for once, Fred did not envy her. 

She seemed haggard. 

"Hey, Cordelia," Gunn said. "How'd it go?" 

"Being perfect is not all it's cracked up to be," she replied, shuffling down the steps and flopping down on the orange couch in the middle of the lobby. "But I got into the exclusives." 

Her curiosity got the better of her and Fred excitedly blurted, "Didja see Angel?" 

Cordelia's expression was amused, Gunn's- not so much. 

Fred blushed, waving to Cordelia to ignore the question. 

"Did you guys find anything here?" Cordelia asked instead. 

"Fred's almost got the click." 

Confusion flitted over Cordelia's features, but Fred only nodded. "It's almost here." 

"Oh-kay." Cordelia pushed herself to her feet, and then moved toward the stairs. "Is Angel back?" 

"Nope." 

The Seer wavered, head snapping back. "He's not?" 

"No," Fred said, coming forward, fingers knitting together. "Probably still working…" 

"Oh, I BET he's working," Cordelia muttered, sliding fingers through her extensions. "Whatever. I'll be at the hotel." 

"Cor, we're at the hotel." 

"Fred? Can you explain to the big dumb fighter over there I mean the hotel I'm supposed to be staying at to make sure my cover isn't blown?" 

"I got it," Gunn said, squeezing Fred's shoulder when she turned to explain. 

Fred obediently closed her mouth. 

"I'm beat, so I'll see you guys in the morning, okay?" 

"Bye, Cordelia." 

Fred wondered at the tired reflection in Cordelia's tone. Her eyes, ever observant, noted the slumped shoulders, the regal walk that seemed weighted with doubt, and even as strong hands led her upstairs, her eyes were still noting, taking in everything. 

It was nagging her. 

There was still something missing. 

-- 

It was three in the afternoon when Angel stepped into the Lobby to find Wesley seated at his desk, silent, a stern expression on his face as he moved through files and folders. 

The vampire noted that the mantle of leadership took its toll on the young Watcher. His tie was loosened, but he still seemed suffocated. Angel wondered blithely when Wesley came to the realization that leadership often became more trouble than it was worth. 

A leader didn't do the job because he wanted to, but because he had to. Inherently it was second nature because there was no one else. 

And with each decision the danger of losing the lead was more and more discernable. 

Coming forward, he pushed back the chair, meeting Wesley's gaze with a slight smile as he held the tape in his hands, shifting it between palms as he waited for Wesley to finish with his work. 

"Angel," Wesley muttered, leaning back finally, letting out a sigh as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at his glasses. 

Wesley was the only guy he knew who still carried around those things. 

"Hey Wes, how're things coming along?" 

"Slowly." Wesley gave a grim smile. "Unfortunately, this is becoming trying. Gunn and Fred's investigations, while informative, only seem to add more pieces, and the clues refuse to fit together neatly." 

"Maybe this will shed some light on it," Angel said, putting the tape on his desk. 

Wesley took the videotape, grazing fingers over it before casting curious eyes at his companion. 

"From the office?" he asked. 

Angel nodded. 

"Perhaps it might." He began to move out of his chair but Angel stopped him with an outstretched hand. 

"Actually, Wes, before we go to work…" 

Wesley sank back into his chair, dark eyes focused on Angel's face. "Yes?" 

There was something odd about the situation, centuries old vampire shuffling in his seat in front of a former member of a Council whose sole purpose was to rid the world of his kind. 

But Wesley was a friend. 

"Things got a little out of control with Cordelia last night." 

Wesley seemed neither surprised nor worried. Instead his expression was unreadable, as he leaned back in his chair, pushing out a breath. 

When he said nothing, Angel nervously shifted his feet and continued to speak, "She handled it but… it's not the same anymore." 

"I see." Wesley's lips pursed, and the cold eyes focused on him again as he pressed his fingers together. "Angel you're telling me this because?" 

Startled at the brisk statement, Angel licked his lips, leaning back. "Well… I was thinking…" 

"Advice? I'm hardly the person to come to for that. The truth? You know that as well as I. There's a matter of the curse." 

"But Wesley-" 

"The fact of the matter is you left Buffy for this very reason, Angel. You know the truth as well I do, there is no need to go through it all again. Nothing can come of it." 

The short answer had not been what Angel had been expecting. Prickles of anger and indignation gave way to hurt, and he found instead of snapping, he merely responded with a small, "I'm not sure I can go back to thinking any way about Cordelia but as mine, Wesley." 

The Watcher was not swayed, but as the stare continued, he softened slightly and said in a more even tone, "Angel, sometimes not everything we want is what is best. I've learned that the hard way." 

"Hello?" The voice in the lobby cut the conversation short, as Cordelia placed her bag on the orange couch and came forward, waving to them as she entered the office, brushing errant bangs away from her face. 

"Good morning, Cordelia," Wesley said briskly. 

Angel gave her a soft smile, but she only gave him a grim smile back. 

The reaction settled something cold in his stomach. 

"What's that?" 

"Angel brought it from the club. I was just about to watch it." 

"Sounds like a plan." 

Cordelia's night at the hotel had been a rather sleepless one. The extensions were difficult to work with and messy, the make up that had been caked on required quite a bit of ritual to be removed, and as she sat in front of the mirror in her suite, Cordelia had been allowed time for thought. 

And regrets. 

The truth was, she was playing with a melodramatic fire, and something far worse. 

She was playing with Angel's feelings. 

The stem of her own emotions regarding the vampire were erratic and at times undefinable. The nature of their relationship had never been questioned until it had twisted and turned, moved in such a way that she was watching strip teases and coming to regard him as HERS, and the switch had been so minute that it had slipped over without her catching it. 

Things might have been complicated before, but now the only option that was left in Cordelia's head in a forkless road was to pretend it didn't happen. 

Her eyes met Angel's and when her heart gave a shudder that seemed to ache, she wondered exactly how easy that was going to be. 

She would have to talk to him, she did owe him that much. 

In truth she owed him much more. 

Five minutes later, Fred had come down the stairs and Gunn had arrived with their breakfast, and seated around the counter, the impromptu meeting had begun with the watching of the tape. 

Fred's face was one of almost interest combined with embarrassed disgust. 

Wesley only looked curious, Gunn had his mouth slightly open and Cordelia herself felt the overwhelming fear and dread creep over as the security camera caught every movement that the couple made under the covers. 

"This isn't a snuff film, is it?" Angel asked. 

Beside him, Cordelia slowly shook her head, using her finger nail to point out the bowtie and the red rose that lay on the floor, small specks on the screen. 

"No, this is an orgy." 

Her eyes locked with his and suddenly his mouth parted in realization, before heat shuddered down Cordelia's spine and she groaned, fingers tangled in her hair, palms hiding her face. 

As her mind roved over possible ways to avoid what was becoming increasingly clear to her and Angel, the others quickly discussed the ramifications of the tape. 

"This must have been what Jennifer was talking about," Fred said, pushing forward and pausing the tape, eyes squinting behind her glasses. "They videotaped the sex." 

"These red roses… Rebecca Hull must have video-taped everything." 

Gunn put it together first, eyes swiveling towards the unusually quiet Angel and Cordelia. "Wait. Cordelia, didn't you say something about a red rose?" 

Panicked, Angel jerked his head to Cordelia. 

The Seer gave a muffled whimper and held up a single red rose. 

"Crap." Wesley sighed, sinking into his chair. 

Fred's eyes flitted between Angel and Cordelia, and her face went red. 

"You didn't happen to get an invite to this little orgy, did you?" 

Face still buried by one palm, Cordelia reached into her purse and plucked out an invitation. 

Angel took it, opening it and reading the contents, before closing his eyes and setting it on the counter. 

"Oh. I guess that's a 'yes'?" Fred asked, sliding off the counter and staring at the invitation. 

"It'll be all right." 

When everyone gave Angel a look, he valiantly tried to keep the anxious shake out of his voice, making it a point not to stare at Cordelia. 

"It will," he insisted. "We can fake it." 

"With cameras?" Cordelia finally looked up to face Angel, hazel orbs darkened with conflict. 

Wesley rubbed at his temples, knowing the implications as well as anyone. "Perhaps it would be… better… " 

"Yo, man they can't skip. This is the one break we've gotten." 

"That's not what I was suggesting," Wesley said slowly. 

"You've got another idea?" 

Everyone stared at him, and he forced out the suggestion. "Perhaps taking up with … other partners for the night." 

In theory, it was a sound plan. Sex was something Angel and Cordelia could pull off, if it wasn't with each other. 

But Cordelia looked horrified, Angel dismissed the thought immediately and both ground out, "NO." 

"I wasn't suggest-" 

"Wesley I'm not having SEX with a male whore just to get a lead, okay?" 

"And what about Angel?" Fred put forth, fingers twisting in her hands. "He … 'cause the clause-" 

"Actually…" Angel began, but let the sentence die when Cordelia shot him a glare. "Cordelia and I can fake." 

"I don't think that-" 

"Wesley it's the only way." Cordelia shuddered visibly, cheeks flushed and eyes watery, but her tone was firm. "We can't afford to pass this… we'll figure it out. Angel… can I talk to you?" 

Immediately the vampire nodded, and together they moved out of the office and into the basement, closing the door behind them. 

The quiet in the office was disheartening. 

Gunn shifted from foot to foot. "They haven't figured out they love each other yet, have they?" 

"Actually they have," Wesley mumbled between fingers pressed to his mouth, staring hard at the door. 

"Oh." 

Fred stared at the door, feeling her heart sink slightly, looking back at the men. "Do you think they can do it?" 

Wesley sighed, rubbing at his scalp before sitting up. "Personally I believe when we miss personal with business, one can never tell." 

"I think they can do it," Gunn said resolutely. 

The faith in their friends warmed Fred, and she offered him a smile. 

Wesley gave him a skeptical glare. 

"I do," he said again. "Cordelia and Angel aren't dumb. They know what's at stake." 

"Do they?" Wesley asked, crossing his arms. "Perhaps this is the one time we ask what is more important: the mission or…" 

"Angel wouldn't-" 

"I don't know Fred," he said heavily. 

The silence descended again, and all three looked toward the closed door. 

--   


"We're not going to be able to pull this off, are we?" 

Angel and Cordelia were standing on opposite sides of the large room, avoiding eyes until she spoke. 

He looked up, saw the grim sadness, and managed his own small protest. "Maybe we can." 

She shook her head, blew out her breath, "Angel, if what happened last night hadn't happened, if I had been able to control myself then MAYBE, but if I can't even-" 

"Hey." Coming forward, his touch was gentle, hesitant on her shoulders, until he was sure she would allow it. Offering her a soft smile, his hand cupped her chin, forcing their gazes to lock. "Cordelia there were two pairs of lips." 

"Yeah. And that's the scary part." She pulled away, moving past him, removing her warmth and leaving him feeling cold. 

"Cordelia-" 

"We have to talk about it but not now, not until this is over." Her voice was resolute, her tone leaving nothing to argue, as she crossed her arms, barring herself from him, from allowing him to try to hold her again. Her eyes were moist, but strangely hard. "If we're going to pull this off we're going to have to stop with the training, stop with the seeing each other anywhere but at this party and at the club." 

"Cordelia-" 

"It's the only way, and you know it." He pushed out a breath, unclenched his fists, and nodded. 

They couldn't be friends now, not with what it led to. Business only, between friends, because if they had to pretend to be lovers the line couldn't be blurred. 

"You're right." 

Cordelia swallowed, not looking at him in the silence that followed. "I'll stay at the hotel, the OTHER hotel, and I'll get Fred to fill me in, until after the party." 

Again the reality of who he was came back to haunt him, and Angel cringed, oddly grateful for the reminder of the soul, of the danger, and oddly hateful of his very nature that kept him from the reality- 

Things would never be easy. Not with her, not with anyone. 

But with a Seer to whom he was bound… it was nearly impossible. 

"I think we could have done it," he muttered. 

She rose an eyebrow. 

"Well you really think I could have performed with camera watching everything?" 

Her mouth threatened to tug into a smile with a twitch. 

"Never filmed, huh?" 

"Never had to." The grin was almost wolfish, and the awkwardness broken, Cordelia smiled. 

The trembling came so quickly that he hardly had time to react before she was on the floor screaming in pain, clutching her head. 

In half a second he was next to her, pulling her into his arms as her body writhed under the pain of the vision, her screams sliding through his body and searing his soul. 

"Cordelia…" 

It was over as quickly as it had become, but it left the formerly erect girl a quivering mass of wounded flesh in his arms, limp as she buried herself in his embrace. 

Unseeing, Angel pressed his lips to her hair, pulling her closer, the sounds of feet pounding down the staircase signaling the others had heard the cries as well. 

Fred paused, and then muttered an almost silent 'oh dear' before she piped up with a panicked, "I'll get the pills and water!" before clamoring back up the stairs and yanking the door open. 

Wesley's face was gentle as he pulled Cordelia away from Angel's embrace. 

The tightening of his arms and growl came almost instinctively, and when Wesley gave him a look, he realized what he was doing, and hesitantly loosened his hold, letting her breath as her eyes opened. 

"Cordelia? Wha'd you see, girl?" Gunn asked, hands on his knees. 

"Uh…" her voice was shaken, masked with pain as she leaned back into Angel's arms, eyes closing as she took several ragged gasps. "A room… a statue… people in hoods… tattoo on the right hand of the lead guy…" She shuddered and Angel tightened his hold again, and she welcomed it, whimpering into him. His right palm stroked her hair softly. 

Wesley's eyes were tinged with moisture, but he pressed, "Cordelia?" 

"A woman… they sacrificed a woman to this statue… oh God…" her eyes opened as the tears drifted down her cheeks freely. "She's got a red rose on her lapel." 

-- 

"How is she?" Angel asked immediately, coming into the room, pulling on the jacket as Gunn sank into the chair. 

"Sleeping. Fred stayed with her," he said, rubbing at his bald head. "Says the pills were helping. Should be okay for the party tomorrow night." 

"And the headache?" Wesley turned from studying the map, coming to hear what Gunn said with Angel. 

"I don't know." Gunn bit his lip, shrugging at the question. "She won't talk to me about it. Fred said she'd try to pry, but the last time she tried to talk to Cordelia about the visions she wound up calling Cordelia Angel's bitch so-" 

"She did?" Angel asked, his voice harsh. 

Gunn turned his head, and at the blanched expression, hastily explained. "Lassie. She called Cordelia your Lassie, But you know Cordelia. Female dog- Angel's bitch." 

"Ah." 

Angel looked slightly uncomfortable. 

"Angel shouldn't you be-" 

"Yeah, I'm on it." He walked toward the door, and paused, turning back. "I'll keep my cell on. If you hear anything-" 

"I'll give you a ring." 

Angel stepped toward the door, and turned back again. "When I get back you're teaching me to use my voice mail." 

Gunn gave him a smirk and turned back to Wesley, who was already seated behind the desk. 

"Location?" 

"Already on it," Gunn said, sliding the chair forward and watching as Wesley went back to work. "But Cordelia could only sense it was in a big house, I looked up the dude's Address, Donald Guy's, it's pretty mansion like." 

"And no timeframe?" 

"She didn't know." 

"Bloody hell." Wesley groaned, running fingers through his hair, looking tired and frustrated, and not nearly happy. 

Gunn frowned. "Hey Wes? You okay man?" 

"Not particularly no," Wesley responded, looking up. "I can't find the damn symbol Angel described in any of these books, we've got a potential sacrifice but we don't know where or when it will take place, Cordelia and Angel will have faux sex in a matter of days and-" 

"Okay, I get all that," Gunn said, waving his arm. "But that ain't what I'm talking about." 

Wesley paused, confused. 

"Ever since that bastard Billy you've been-" 

Interrupted by a heavy sigh, Gunn closed his mouth as Wesley stood, reaching for a book and plopping it into Gunn's lap. "Look for the symbol here." 

"Damn. Shut me up why don't you." 

"And before I forget you owe Lorne an apology." 

Gunn's jaw tensed slightly, as Wesley turned back to his desk and began scribbling away. 

"Yo, man. That ain't gonna work. You don't gotta be all pissy just because-" 

"Gunn, drop it." 

"Fred don't blame you for-" 

"DROP it." The hands slapped at the table and Gunn jumped, eyes narrowing at the uncharacteristic behavior. 

"Wesley… man, this bottling things up ain't good for you." 

"You'd like the truth, Gunn?" Wesley snapped, eyes flashing. "All right then, since everyone is SO intent on focusing on MY problems when we're in the middle of the case, out with it then, I don't understand why someone as horribly conflicted as Angel or yourself can possibly be pivotal for these women and why I'm destined to be alone. I don't understand the anger in my heart and I don't understand the fear. What I do understand that had it not been for one night, things might have ended up differently and you wouldn't have gotten to her first." 

The words came out in a torrent, and Wesley regretted them as soon as they were said. 

Gunn was startled, the hurried rush of words taking a minute to process through his friend's thoughts, but the blank expression did nothing to alleviate the stress. 

Slowly, the words sank in, and Wesley swallowed down the guilt as Gunn shifted in his seat. 

"Oh." The younger black man leaned forward, hands tangled together to form on fist as his elbows rested on his knees. "Damn." 

Wesley was quiet, turning away, taking in a breath. 

"Shit, Wes," he heard behind him. "You… damn… you should have told me before. You should have told me." 

Wesley placed a hand on the bookshelf behind him, attempting to steady himself. 

"Gunn," he began heavily. 

"I would have stepped aside man, I would have done that for you." 

"Gunn-" 

"But it's too late man. It's too late. I asked you and you said go for it and I need her now. I need her Wesley." 

Wesley closed his eyes at the implication, at the hurt in Gunn's voice, at Gunn's need not to get angry. 

"Charles," he turned, coming forward imploringly. "I have no intention of acting on any of these feelings. I'm sorry-" 

"Don't," Gunn snapped, the anger finally seeping through, the body tense and tight. "Don't- she'll feel guilty and… shit man you should have told me." He shook his head, body almost trembling. "I think I love her Wesley." 

"Gunn-" 

"That's a fact, man. And I'm gonna make her love me. Don't get in the way of that." 

There was enough street in the sentence to make Wesley understand completely, and even as the anger clouded Gunn's eyes, Wesley had to admire the man's restraint. 

"I understand, Gunn." 

Charles swallowed, and then leaned back in his chair, opening his book. 

"Where's the picture of that symbol?" 

Wesley handed it to him silently, and Gunn took it, perusing the pages. 

As Wesley sat down, Gunn offered one last sentence. 

"Get some help, Wesley. No one should carry those issues alone." 

Wesley froze, and closed his eyes, but Gunn said nothing else on the subject, and relieved, Wesley began his work. 

When Wesley ventured a request about a certain file, Gunn answered him, and neither spoke about the rift that seemed gruffly apparent.   



	7. Chapter Seven

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigate a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
Chapter Seven   
-- 

It took a full five minutes after he parked the car to muster the courage to step out of it. 

The vampire with a soul took a long, loose breath, leaning his head back against the leather covered headrest, mind and soul whirling with the implications of tonight. 

Tonight was a job, and that was it. 

They were professionals, and that was it. 

He would get through it, because Cordelia trusted him. 

Opening the door of the convertible, he stepped out, handing the keys to the valet with some hesitation, noting the way the valet's eyes lit up at the sight of the old car. 

The young man got in, revved up the engine, and Angel tried not to cringe as he heard the tires screeching on the gravel. 

Left alone to look up at the dark mansion, Angel began to move, working his way up the long drive, through the metal gate and around the darkened cobblestone steps. 

Every dead nerve seemed alive, hesitation and fear mingled within him, bowtie dangling in his hand, moving around the side of the house. 

Brian was waiting, eyes narrowed, as he crossed his arms, and then jerked his head toward the open door. 

"Get in. Rebecca wants to see you." 

Once again, Angel was implicitly reminded he was no mortal, as the low growl of the demon rose within him, and the prickles of anger slid through him. Vestiges of the demon urged him to turn, clench one strong hand around the neck of the young bouncer and simply twist, ending the annoyance, allowing one burst of pleasure at seeing the look on the young man's face before the neck splintered. 

He clenched his fists, kept his eyes on the door, and forced down the anger, shuddering throughout his body prevalent as he wrenched open the door, slamming it shut behind him. 

Servants in white jackets and bow ties hustled around him, shouting out in English, and sometimes in Spanish, moving around him and through the doors into the kitchen, where odors of food that seemed gourmet by nature wafted through the billows of smoke emerging from under the door. 

To his right, dressed in a long black evening gown, a new, freshly picked red rose pinned to her lapel, stood Rebecca Hull, eyes looking distracted, a tight frown on her face as she spoke to one of the servants. 

Her eyes caught his entrance, and with a harried wave, she motioned him over, moving into a small office in the side of the corridor. 

"You're late," she snapped as soon as he came in, moving toward the desk and rifling through some paperwork, fumbling with the cigarette in her hand until he took the lighter from her. 

She gave him a cold look as he held the lighter under her nose, but leaned forward, puffing in until the stick began to burn, taking in the nicotine and sighing from relief. 

"Sorry. I got held up." 

Finally able to breathe, she straightened, shaking out her hair and looking back down to her paperwork. 

"Don't let it happen again." She shook her head, craning her neck before settling into the plush leather, hand absently stroking at the black under her arm. "You know you're on a very thin cord here, right Angel?" 

He cocked his head, unsure. 

"Making out with what's-her-name in the alley, stealing a video from my office-" He stiffened, but she only took another drag of the cigarette, knuckles rapping against the armrest nervously. "and now you're late. You make a damn poor floor boy." 

"I'm sorry." 

His eyes began to shift to the exit, uncertain now, hands clenching into fists- 

"Did you look at the video?" 

The direct question caught him off-guard. The vampire gave her a wary look, but she only coolly gazed back. 

Playing her game, he tossed back, "Yeah. Interesting." 

She was quiet, before reaching forward and rifling through a file. "You took the August 28th Party video, right? Yeah, that was a good one." She took another drag, studying him with her startlingly clear eyes. "You would have had to see it anyway. Whether you still have a job tomorrow will depend on how you do tonight. So, I hope you studied it well." 

With that she rose. 

"Take off the shirt, put on the bow-tie and go to Maurice to get oiled down. Tonight is just like the club, but this time, the ladies get to touch." 

Stunned, Angel turned, watching her go with a frozen body. 

She paused in the doorway, and suddenly gave a shrug. "Let's hope you're as good under the covers as you were in that alley." 

The door closed behind her, and Angel was left alone, closing his eyes, pushing out an angry breath, and wondering how on earth he was going to get through this hell of a night. 

-- 

Wesley had been worried, Fred had been mildly excited, and Gunn had been agitated. 

Cordelia had pasted on her 'it's all right' face, constantly reassuring them that she and Angel knew what they were doing, that this needed to happen, that it was a set-up, that real detectives did it all the time. 

But she and Angel had never been so immersed in the case before. They still knew next to nothing, and Fred's click and Wesley's 'eureka', words and actions they had been hoping for, had still not happened. 

In all honesty, this was the best, the only real lead they had that hadn't led to a dead end. 

Sucking in her breath, Cordelia pushed back the fogginess of the vision, the pain that still splintered inside her mind and reached hesitantly for the hand of the valet, grateful for his support as he pulled her out of the limousine, steadying her when she gripped his hand tighter than necessary. 

"Careful." 

"Thanks," she breathed out, taking the corsage that he held to her. 

"The gravel is slippery." 

So is my head, she thought, biting her lip and straightening up. 

She could do this. 

She could. 

Moving past the valet, she pondered the Power's reason for pushing another mind crippling vision on her while she was on active duty. It wasn't like SHE had a perfect happiness clause. 

Of course, that might as well would have had to be the case. 

Moving up, she was careful as she turned up the cobblestone, keeping the pain from surfacing on her face, trying to morph into the old Cordelia Chase, and the new Victoria Chase. 

The throbbing she managed to subside to a dull ache, and as she stepped through the open door, handing her coat to the man who bowed in the marble awning, Cordelia felt herself catch her breath before she could stop it. 

The hallway glittered of candlelight and crystal. Hazel eyes shone as she stepped into the house, licking her lips as she gazed at the priceless pieces set carefully on mantles, signed lobby cards of old movies framed and hung on the walls. 

Laughter and low throated chuckles moved around her, floating in from the open doors on the right, and moving toward them, Cordelia paused when she heard her fake name being called. 

"Victoria." 

Cordelia turned, a smile on her face to greet Rebecca Hull. The young pimp truly looked happy to see her as she jogged down the stairs as well as she was able in the sleek gown, reaching forward to clasp Cordelia's hands and peck her cheek like a long lost friend. 

"Rebecca." 

"Oh, thank God you're here," Rebecca said, grinning. "I admit I cater to the rich, but I just can't handle rich, spoiled and BORING. Not one of these women has the wit you have." 

Cordelia had to smile at the compliment, letting easy laughter come out of her as she turned her gaze back to the doors. "I take it the party hasn't started yet?" 

"Mmmm… not for what you want, but he's here." 

Cordelia flushed at the knowing grin, and felt her heart shudder slightly as she carefully tossed the curls over her shoulder, her eyes growing colder. 

"What about this Rachel girl? I've seen her-" 

"Oh…" Rebecca looked apologetic, "Well in all fairness she DID see him first." When Cordelia's brow only rose higher, Rebecca added, "But… let me work it out. I promised him to you, and I always make sure my friends aren't disappointed." 

Friends? Cordelia speculated on the nature of the word, but only offered a tight smile in response. 

"Glad to hear that." 

Carefully, Rebecca took the corsage from Cordelia's fingers, leaning forward to pin it delicately over Cordelia's right breast. 

Her fingers shook slightly, and Cordelia looked on, a little unnerved, until Rebecca pulled back, took in a shaky breath, and wrapped an arm into the crook of Cordelia's elbow, leading her into the ballroom. 

-- 

Rebecca Hull had not left her side, and Cordelia had the slightest suspicion that she had garnered some sort of guest of honor position, as she was seated comfortably on the plush bean bag like chair, lounging along with Rebecca and Donald, a glass of champagne in her hand as the men made their rounds with the woman. 

It was odd, the men were… fully dressed. 

In black tuxes and ties, the event seemed almost like a regular gathering, a party as the woman in red roses talked and laughed, and men held plates of food, seated next to them. 

A band was playing, and the exclusive party was reminiscent of some forties Rita Hayworth movie she had watched as a child. 

She found herself able to breathe normally only when Angel was not in the direct vicinity, and with Rebecca practically glued to her side, there was no way to allow the mounting tension that was quickly building in her abdomen to find any sort of release. 

The vampire was treading on thin ice, if the signals Cordelia caught between Donald and Rebecca were accurate. His eyes were shifty, he seemed unsure, and her lips became almost parched when her throat became dry, as she realized that Angel looked openly nervous. 

Samuel, a beautifully built man with a smile that would have sent her reeling had she not been dividing her time between trying to fight off the vision hangover and attempting to look cool and calm despite her aching need to understand what had Angel so freaked, came and sat down beside her, handing her another glass and speaking to her in a normal, conversational tone. 

"You seem distracted." 

Rebecca gave a knowing smile and leaned back, for the moment leaving the two to speak as she reached over and whispered into Donald's ear. 

Cordelia was polite, but that was all, as she turned, regarding him and nodding. "Just tired. I have a little headache." 

To his credit, Samuel looked almost concerned as he placed the glass down and carefully reached for her neck. 

"May I?" 

She saw the hesitation, and unsure why she allowed it, nodded, as Samuel gently stepped around her and pressed soft, but firm fingers into the muscles of the crook of her neck. 

An involuntary sigh escaped her, eyes drifting closed as the muscles underneath his delving fingertips contracted, tension being eased out by warmth. 

"Wow. You're tight." 

"Mmm." Unconsciously, she found herself leaning, back now resting against Samuel's chest, as he carefully worked at her back. 

A tray slamming down made her jolt, her eyes jerk open, and her gaze immediately caught Angel's angry glare, as he shoved a glass into one of the woman's hands and turned away. 

Flushing, Cordelia straightened, pushing Samuel's hands off. "Thanks." 

"Are you-" 

"Fine, that was great, but no more." Rebecca leaned up against her, dark eyes thoughtful as she looked back to Angel's retreating form. 

"Something wrong?" 

"Nothing," Cordelia said hastily, gloved fingertips caressing at her temples, taking in a shaky breath. "I'm just… tired." 

"Long day." 

"You have no idea," she admitted, a grim smile on her face. Her cheeks were burning insistently, and when she finally gathered the gumption to face Rebecca, the other had an unreadable face. 

"Donald go check on the rooms," she said flippantly, and the other man huffed and looked ready to argue, but the look on Rebecca's face had been used many a time by Cordelia and it had the required effect as Donald got up, shuffling off to the other side of the room. 

"You've never done this before." 

Cordelia looked surprised, startled, and the slightest bit of fear worked itself into her system as she fervently shook her head. 

"Rebecca-" 

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Victoria," Rebecca said, a smile emerging on her face as she turned her attention on the room, her tone almost conversational. "First time for everything, just glad you decided to do this with me, is all." 

Cordelia swallowed, wincing at the aching pain in her head before sucking in her breath. "What do you mean?" 

Rebecca shrugged, but the smile was slow and wise and a little bit disturbing. "Just glad that it's with me, is all." Her eyes connected with Cordelia. "I like the newbies." 

"Yeah, pay for sex, yay me," Cordelia muttered, disgust running rampant in her tone. 

Rebecca paused, and shook her head. "That's not what I mean. Women in general are so… bound by society, but look," Rebecca motioned her glass to the Red Roses, laughing and talking with the men, "here there's not pretension, no… wondering about morals and first impressions." She grinned, sipping her drink and letting out a soft, contented sigh. "In this bubble women are free to take what they need, what they want." 

Cordelia was quiet, the smile on Rebecca's face creeping her out more than a little. "So you see yourself as a… female liberator?" 

"And I make good money at it," Rebecca said, chuckling. 

-- 

Towards the hours of the morning, the tension that had been building inside of Angel seemed ready to burst. 

The vampire stood in the shadows, speaking urgently into the cellphone. 

"No, Wesley! We're fine." 

There was a loud sigh on the other end. "Angel you seem rather… agitated." 

"Yeah, well YOU get pawed at all night, and see how YOU feel." 

"Angel-" 

"And Cordelia hasn't even looked in my direction all night!" 

There was a pause, and Angel flushed, shuffling feet. 

"Angel, I need to know if you're sure you can do this, because if you can't-" 

"Wesley I don't think we have a choice," he snapped, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "If it's any consolation, not exactly in the mood for perfect happiness, okay?" 

"Angel?" 

The voice bounced off the walls and Angel turned, snapping the phone shut and turning back to the party, meeting Donald halfway. 

"Rebecca wants you inside now," Donald said, coming into the hallways, watching him with dark, almost emotionless eyes. 

In his long years as a vampire, Angelus had never known fear, he had never known anxiety, and he had never cared about outcomes. 

But the pit in Angel's stomach was almost nauseating, and the aspect that identified with the demon took it's toll, disgust shuddering over his body at the foreign human emotion of fear, caring… anxiety… 

The pain and honor for which Angel had once striven for, the badge of honor that seemed more a burden now than before. 

But he took a breath, thought of Jennifer, of Wesley and Gunn and Fred, and of Cordelia. 

"Right." 

The hand on his shoulder stopped him from going further, as Donald began speaking in calm, firm tones. "Before you begin, here are the rules." 

-- 

"This is the best suite we have," Rebecca smiled as she inserted the lock into door, turning it quickly and opening, pushing the door and allowing Cordelia to walk inside. 

Her heels sunk into the plush carpet, and her breath caught at the sight of the velvet canopy, the rich, red vibrant color of the silk sheets. 

"It's no Le Meridian," Rebecca said with a smile, leaning against the doorway, "But it'll do." 

Cordelia's eyes were wide, wonder clouding beneath the hazel as she turned, surveying the room as her purse was deposited on the nightstand, eyes searching the room for any sign of the camera she knew had to be there. 

The room was plush, expensive, rich, comfortable. 

"How long do we have?" she found herself wondering out loud. 

"Take as long as you want," Rebecca said, coming forward, arms crossed as she looked around the room, "make sure you get your money's worth." Her eyes shifted toward Cordelia's form, and after a moment, she looked away. "But I wouldn't recommend falling asleep. The walk of shame isn't something I personally like for my clients." 

Cordelia felt the smile creep on her face before she had a chance to stop it, nodding. "That brings back memories." 

"Don't I know it," Rebecca commiserated, and the awkward silence ensued, until Rebecca coughed and turned toward the door. "Guess I better get our host. You should have everything you need. Enjoy yourself." 

The door clicked closed behind her, and still the game wouldn't end. The cameras were in the room somewhere and the warped mind game had more than taken its toll on Cordelia's tired mind. 

Desperation mingled with exhaustion quickly were wearing her down, and with a sigh, she sank down onto the bed, closing her eyes and muttering a silent prayer for strength before the door opened and Angel stepped into the room. 

Her head jerked up, and as their eyes locked, her heart gave, just a little. 

The smile of awkwardness was real, relief mixed with awareness of their dangerous situation flooding through her as she stood shakily to her feet. 

Angel was quiet, orbs dark and intense, searing through her as a man drunk on nothing but ardor. 

His perfect mouth was set in a grim, dark, intense line, and she didn't blame him the expression, she knew a similar frown was present on her own. 

He fumbled with the lock, never taking his eyes off of her, and when that was done, he stepped away from it, one step closer to her. 

Whether it had been unconscious or completely deliberate made no difference, he was one step closer and the truth was, she had missed him, incredibly. 

In two steps she was in his arms, shuddering against the rock solid of his chest, eyes closing as their lips met and hungrily began to move. 

There was one kiss, lips pressed fiercely against each other, and another, and she burrowed her face into his neck, holding him desperately, tightly, as his hold on her became almost painful. 

She felt his mouth on her bare shoulder, heard his intake of breath as he breathed her scent in. 

"Are you okay?" he whispered, lips brushing against the outer folds of her ear. 

Her eyes closed involuntarily as she gave a sigh that seemed all too genuine. "Headache," she answered just as quietly. 

"Do you know where the cameras are?" he whispered again, this time burying his mouth in her neck. 

Her fingers tangled into the short tufts at the nape of his neck, holding him closer, grazing the bone of his jaw with soft caresses as she moved her lips against his skin. "No idea." 

With a growl, he reached for her waist, lifting her up and pressing her groin firmly against his, and it was clear that this was taking its toll on him, as her hips bucked, seemingly enjoying a life of their own, against his hardening shaft. 

"Angel…" 

"Shhh…" He silenced her protest with a feather light kiss on her mouth, and her eyes connected with his and suddenly their lips were moving against each other hungrily. 

Now she was on her back, body moving against satin sheets, fingers ripping buttons off holes as Angel valiantly tried to aid her, shrugging off the white dress shirt, ripping the bow tie off and tossing it away. 

Oh, God… 

Her body was heated, her mind feverish, and she fought to control the desire, biting her lip and attempting to keep the moaning out of her voice when he touched her, gently cupping one full breast against his palm. 

She arched into his hand, and her eyes were moist when he whispered, gently, "Cordy…" 

Her eyes never moved from his as his palm slid over her cheek, a faint caress that sent goosebumps throughout her body. "Do you trust me?" 

Like he had to ask. 

Her nod was almost immediate, even as her heart jolted with in her and her soul splintered at the pain of having to pretend when it was all too real… and much too dangerous. 

This was a mission, it wasn't real, but it was Angel, and he was here, and she trusted him with her very soul… 

Even if she couldn't trust him with his. 

His eyes had flecks of gold in them when he was aroused, she realized, body completely still as he carefully slid the straps from the dress, propping himself up on one knee and sliding his hand under her waist, lifting her up to slide the dress down from under her. 

It had occurred to her that they would have to be naked, even as he lifted the sheets out and tossed them over them, she was reaching for his belt buckle, cheeks tinting a furious red when he moved against her hand, his breath hitching in a strangled moan. 

Oh, God…. 

"Trust me," she whispered fiercely, chest heaving against his, as his arms went around her, the pair frozen completely, focused on each other's face, almost afraid to look anywhere else. "We'll get through this." 

He swallowed, hard, and in a incredibly stupid move, considering the camera's, he allowed one gentle caress, from her hair, now in complete disarray, to her mouth. 

"I love you," he whispered, and their lips came together again, the kiss soft, gentle, desperate and scared. 

They were so very scared. 

But the trust was inherent, and it was what gave Cordelia hope, and gave her control, because there was complete trust, and for once, the fear gave way to something much stronger… 

Their friendship could survive if there was trust… 

And her hand jerked the belt loop out of the pants, and her fingers jerked the zipper down. 

-- 

"I still don't understand how you don't find these things just the weirdest bit… disturbing." 

Rebecca ignored the outburst, instead staring down at the monitors, finger to her lips as she ran through them room by room. 

"Jason's going off too quickly, make sure you tell him that." 

Donald obediently scribbled it down. "You gonna see how our newest is doing?" 

Rebecca nodded in distraction finally moving away from the last monitor to the one that Donald was observing. 

Her eyes changed slightly, mouth pulling into a frown, crossing her arms. 

Her eyes shifted to see Donald, but he was shifting slightly, shuddering as he turned away from the screen, Victoria's moans apparently shaking him. 

"Something wrong?" 

"Sounds like she's enjoying herself," Rebecca muttered. 

"Mmm… ya think?" Donald gave a smirk, "Though with that guy can you blame her?" 

"He seems to be having a good time." 

"And with that girl, you blame him?" 

Rebecca gave him a look. "You think he's doing a good job?" 

Donald turned back to screen, putting on his glasses to study the scene. "I think that's the best debut in a while?" This time he was clearly interested, moving forward and almost grinning. "Almost perfect." 

"Mmm." 

But Rebecca only cocked her head, eyes intent on the scene, ignoring Donald's running commentary. 

Truth be told, she looked less than convinced. 

-- 

The woman was utterly terrified. 

Around her the chanting continued, and with tear streaked eyes, she held onto the man, pleading with him, begging to understand what was going on. 

But the chanting continued, and in her heels she slipped, trying to catch her fall with by slamming her palm into the floor. 

The pain shot up her forearm, and her wrist crumpled, making her cry out in agony. 

The man held her down, and she looked up at him, pleading with him, eyes jerking toward the statue that stood stoically in the center, looking down on her with the face of a woman, the body of… something else completely. 

She begged but he said nothing, his face drawn and his eyes glazed over, almost onyx and black. 

The figure in the hood came nearer, and when it reached forward, the tattoo was clearly visible on the hand. 

She gasped in recognition, and the chanting grew louder, and louder… 

The burst of light came in sync with her pain, and when the lifeless hand fell to the floor, the red rose tumbled onto the floor, smashed, and hopelessly out of shape.   



	8. Chapter Eight

**Title: Hungry Eyes**   
**Author: Misty Flores**   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
**Chapter Eight**   
-- 

The walk of shame. 

Cordelia closed her eyes, heels clicking against the marble cobblestone as she looked back at the darkly lit mansion, feeling an unconscious shudder travel through her. 

Moving down the steps, she noticed other woman leaving, on their faces expressions of relief, happiness… almost like kittens purring, their tummies filled with their mother's milk. 

Inside Cordelia there was nothing but an ache that had refused to find release. 

The limousine pulled up and she stepped in, sinking into the seat and blowing out her breath. 

"Let's go home." 

As the limousine moved through the narrow, curvy streets, Cordelia remained silent, lost in thought. She had picked up Angel's habit of brooding entirely too well, she realized. 

Her fingers were shaking, but as her mind reeled with images of the night she had just passed with her best friend, there was one thing to smile about. 

It was the trust that got them through, and, thankfully, it was the reason she was sitting there now, unfulfilled, in her dress that now felt uncomfortable and scratchy, heels that achingly pinched at her feet, and extensions that were beginning to add to her already painful headache. 

But the smile faltered as the words Angel had said in the heat of the moment flooded through her. Fingers rubbing at her temples, Cordelia dealt with her sinking heart, knowing she would be haunted with those images, with these memories taken for the sake of a case, forever. 

He loved her. 

A grim smile floated upon her features and she shuddered, letting out one sob before grabbing a bottle of champagne from the cabinet in the leather chair and pouring herself a drink. 

Where the hell were they going to go from here? 

-- 

With a scowl, Wesley tossed the pad onto the table, leaning forward onto the desk and breathing out a heavy sigh of frustration. 

"You okay?" 

He was bloody getting tired of everybody asking him that. 

Moving his hands away from his head, he looked up to find Cordelia standing hesitantly in the doorway, watching him in concern. 

The extensions were still on her, dark strands cascading down her back, framing her face in curly tendrils. 

He sometimes forgot just how beautiful she really was. 

"Cordelia." 

"Hey." Coming into the room, she dropped her purse on the nearby chair and sank into the one next to it, letting her breath out. "You okay?" she asked again. 

He responded with a small, relieved smile. "I am now," he said honestly. "Truth be told, I was half afraid…" 

He trailed off with a blush, as Cordelia gave him a blank stare, and then, as the realization of what he meant came, shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "Wesley if there was any chance of that-" 

"I know," he interrupted softly. "But… there were concerns." 

There was no response. When he looked up, she finally just shrugged, her tone tinged with anger as she spit, "You know I would never let that-" 

"There are things beyond our control," he interrupted, and finally just turned back to the pad. "I can't find anything on this." 

She was breathing heavily now, torn between anger and denial, and finally she followed his lead, ignoring the obvious situation and leaning forward, taking the pad from him. Eyes roving over it, she swallowed and shoved it back. "That was as well as I could do it." 

"I know." 

"Wesley?" 

He looked up, and her hazel tinted orbs were now darker, lips pursed into a soft frown. "I know that I haven't exactly been there for you, Wesley. I'm sorry." 

"Cordelia…" 

"I just…" 

Footsteps on the staircase made her mouth clamp shut, and Wesley looked over her shoulder to see Angel pause in the doorway, eyes fixated on the figure seated in front of him. 

"Angel. Good morning." 

Cordelia shuffled again, Angel paused, eyes shifting between her and Wesley before finally clamping his hand on the doorway and pushing himself in. 

"Hey." 

Cordelia was visibly blushing, but it wasn't amusing. 

In Wesley's opinion, it was almost heartbreaking to watch, as Angel shoved his hands into his pockets, the pair standing side by side, almost afraid to look at each other. 

"Any luck?" Angel finally ventured, breaking the awkward silence. 

"I'm afraid not," Wesley said, leaning back in his chair. "At best my theory is that it is a Greek deity, but which one…" he waved his hand, sighing. 

Again with the silence. 

"Well… " 

The phone rang, and when both Cordelia and Angel made an attempt to scramble for the door, Wesley intercepted them both. "I'll get it." 

He moved out of the office, leaving them to stare at each other in silence. 

-- 

Fred wondered if she had done something wrong. 

Seated on the passenger side of the truck, she viewed Gunn's face flicker with unreadable expressions, as he looked at her and then back at the road, with eyes of a scientist. 

He hadn't said one word since this morning, and aside from the tacos that were now perched on her lap, he hadn't moved to touch her once. 

"Charles?" 

"Hmm?" 

Fred felt something slightly queasy settle in her stomach, swallowed nervously, and asked timidly, "Did we have a fight that I don't know about?" 

His head jerked in her direction, visibly surprised, and she felts slightly better when he coughed, shaking his head no. "No, of course not, baby doll." 

"Oh." She bit her lip, looking down at her lap and then up at the stop sign as the truck drifted to a stop. "I just…" 

"So you and Wesley." 

She blinked at the interruption, mouth parting slightly. "Me and Wesley what?" 

His grip tightened around the steering wheel, and Fred, openly confused, waited as he began to open and close his mouth like a gutted fish. 

"You… friends, right?" 

"Of course. I love Wesley…" Bewildered, she shrugged her shoulders, still completely confused. 

"So… when you say you LOVE him…" Charles' voice had taken on a curious tone now, and it befuddled Fred more than ever. 

What was he talking about? 

"Charles…" 

"If umm…" Jerking suddenly, the truck veered to a stop in front of a newsstand, and he turned to her, "Look Fred I need you to stay away from Wesley." 

Her mouth parted in surprise, and immediately he blushed, shifting in his seat. "That came out wrong. What I meant was… You and me… he likes you, okay?" 

The mouth stayed open. 

Thoughts were whirling through poor Fred's brain, as her boyfriend continued to stutter through his explanation of exactly what was wrong. 

When it was over, she still wasn't sure she got exactly what had happened. 

Wesley was… what? 

In the middle of a case this was coming out? 

Fred had never been one for incompetence or for waste of time. Even in Pylea she had often planned her schedule in her cave, nervous about wasted energy and wasted and time and unreasonable and illogical assumptions. 

This was quite clearly, incredibly illogical. 

Taking a breath, she shifted again, pushing the tacos in between them and crossing her legs, running fingers through her hair. 

"I… see." 

"Fred?" 

Pulling herself into the corner of the seat, her thoughts continued to whirl. A knot of something tight settled in her stomach, and it wasn't comfortable at all. "You think that just because Wesley has a crush on me that you can't trust him? Or me?" 

Her eyes flashed, and Gunn looked taken aback by it. 

Fred had learned enough from Cordelia to know that he knew whatever kind of reaction he was looking for, this wasn't it. 

"No, Fred-" 

"After all that we've been through as a family, as a group-" 

"Fred-" 

Suddenly he paused, and jerked open the door, leaving her speaking alone in the car. "Gunn?" 

Moving quickly, he ran to the newsstand, fishing into his pocket and grabbing a paper, paying the man and running back into the truck. 

"Charles are you ignoring our first argument?" 

"Baby doll, look." 

Fred jerked the paper out of his hand, not caring at all if he garnered a paper cut, and clapped open the page, looking at the headline. 

She gasped, her stomach plummeting. 

-- 

"So…" 

"So…" 

Trying to find anything to keep his fidgeting hands occupied, Angel paced to the desk, picking up a pencil, fiddling with it, until his nervous fingers dropped it and it went clattering to the floor. 

Cordelia saw it drop, and he flushed, stepping away from the desk. 

The quiet was dreadful, horrific, and it shouldn't have been there. It shouldn't have… Cordelia and he had promised each other they would get through it… 

And here they were… through it… they had had … 'faux sex' and they had come out of it with soul intact and… 

Cordelia was laughing. 

He blinked, cocking his head, knocked out of his broody reverie by the sight of his friend collapsing into giggles in the chair. 

"Cordy?" 

She was convulsing, hand clapped over her mouth as her shoulders shook with mirth. 

"I'm sorry," she gasped, face red from the exertion. "It's just I looked at you and suddenly I was like, 'I saw Angel naked!'" 

He shifted his weight, eyebrow rising as he tried to figure out what was funny about that. 

"Uh… how is that funny?" he asked pointedly. 

She couldn't help but laugh harder, tears streaming down her cheeks as she pointed a shaky finger. "Can you… *gasp* it's just… you and me- can you imagine what Xander would say? Or Buffy? 'Hey Buffy! How are you? I'm fine, by the way, I had fake sex with Angel last night!" Still bewildered, he found a smile emerging on his face. "Oh, yeah! Did I mention he's a stripper now?" she continued, heaving in breaths. 

He crossed his arms, tried to look stern, but found a conceding smile overtaking that. "I can see that," he said, leaning back against the desk. "No one would have expected that a few years ago." His dark eyes looked down at the young face, found something inside him tugging on his soul. She was right… he had seen her… naked. 

Cordelia. Cordelia was naked. And he was there. 

"There is something… almost… incestuous about you and me," he admitted. 

"Hey! Speak for yourself bucko! I never thought of you as my brother! Gross much?" 

He grinned at the admission, eyes connecting with hers, before the grins and giggles faded. But the awkwardness was broken, thanks to Cordelia's landmark observations, and he was able to smile at his best friend who he had seen naked… touched and tasted and- 

"So… had fun last night?" Her eyebrow rose as she tucked herself further into her chair, giving him a glare. "'Cause it… sounded like you… had fun…" 

She continued to stare at him. "Angel," she said evenly, "You're not talking about the orgasm, are you?" 

He coughed, suddenly red. 

"Because you know I faked, right?" 

"You faked?!" The words blurted out before he could stop him, and his inflated pride now deflated as quickly as a pricked balloon. "But… no way." 

Her eyes grew rounder. "Oh my God. You honestly thought I could actually – in THAT situation?" 

"Well…" he shuffled, suddenly wishing for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "You … sounded… I smelled…" 

"You smelled?!" 

"But-" 

"Angel!" 

"Cause- you did NOT fake! No one's ever faked on-" 

"Do you WANT Me to go 'When Harry Met Sally' on your ass?!" She stood, arms crossed, glaring at him challengingly. 

"Guys!" Gunn burst into the room, and Cordelia moved away automatically, settling back down into her chair as Fred came with him, putting the box of tacos on the empty seat next to her. 

Wesley reentered the room, steps faltering as he noticed Gunn and Fred, and their differing reactions to him. 

Fred smiled. Gunn very nearly glared. 

Angel's beeper went off, and the vampire quickly reached for his pocket. "Dancehall," he muttered. "I'll go call." 

Angel moved past the group, throwing another look toward Cordelia. 

She responded by sticking her tongue out at him. 

"Cordelia! Get some last night?" 

"Bite me, Gunn. Where on earth did you get tacos at this hour?" Cordelia asked, taking one foil wrapped package from Fred. 

"Gunn and I made them!" Fred said, setting them on her lap as she sat down. "They're breakfast tacos!" 

Her expression frozen, Cordelia immediately pushed them away. 

"Not hungry, but thanks!" 

"Something wrong, Gunn?" Wesley asked, crossing his arms. Gunn looked a little wary, but just nodded and thrust the paper into his hands. 

"Read that." 

Wesley opened up the paper, scanning the headline. 

Cordelia was curious, dread overtaking that emotion when she saw Gunn and Fred's faces. 

Her heart quivered. "Wes?" 

"Cordelia, do you know this woman?" He turned the paper so that it was facing her. Cordelia leaned forward, and suddenly her eyes closed, her body slumping back into the chair. "I take it that's a yes," he asked gently. 

Fred bit her lip as Cordelia nodded hesitantly. "Name's Heather Silvers. She was a visiting chick. Kinda like me." 

Gunn took the paper back, "Found last night, dead… slit open." 

"Was she at the party?" 

Cordelia nodded hesitantly. 

"Shit." 

Fred shuffled. "What are we going to do?" 

"Confront Rebecca tonight," Cordelia said, straightening up. "We've been lying on our backs- or sitting on our asses-" she amended, "Too long. We take care of this tonight." 

"I'm dancing tonight," Angel announced, walking back into the room, taking the paper from Wesley when it was handed to him. "Crap." 

His eyes locked with Cordelia and she nodded. 

"Would you like some help?" Wesley offered. 

"No," Angel said, shaking his head. "We need answers before we do anything. We'll give you a call if we need anything." 

"I'll keep researching here, " Wesley said, sitting back in the chair reaching for his piles of files. "Perhaps the way Heather was cut will provide some insight into the ritual that is used." 

"I can help," Fred offered, and that earned her a smile from the Englishman. 

Gunn immediately grabbed her hand, pulling her back. "I'm sure English can do it just find on his own." 

Wesley blanched. Fred noticed the reaction, anger rising in her at Charles' irrational behavior, and she glared, shrugging him off with a furious tug. "Ah'm helpin' him tonight, Gunn," she snapped. 

Her eyes caught Cordelia form as she walked out of the office silently, and with another glare to her boyfriend, she followed. 

-- 

The courtyard was chirping with birds, the sun was shining, and it was almost pleasant. 

Just when Cordelia wanted it broody and dark. 

Figured. 

"Hey." 

Cordelia tossed young physicist a distracted smile as she waited hesitantly at the end of the bench. 

"Hey, Fred." 

"Can I sit?" 

"I wouldn't mind." 

Carefully, Fred sat, palms flat against the stone bench, looking at Cordelia nervously. "Are you okay?" she finally asked. 

Cordelia shrugged, sighing. "Not really no. Heather was a loud bitch but she didn't deserve to die." 

"We'll find out who's responsible." 

"What if we already know who it is but are just taking too long to find it?" Cordelia snapped in self directed anger. 

Fred pursed her lips, but said nothing. 

When she spoke again, her voice was softer, more hesitant. "What about last night?" 

Immediately a guarded expression fluttered over the May Queen's face. "What about last night?" 

"Are you okay? About that?" 

Cordelia offered a grim smile. "You'd think I'd be all screwed up about it huh? I mean, it was hard, Fred. Really… hard… " 

"Ah bet…" 

"No, not that-" Cordelia looked almost shocked, but Fred only blushed and she reverted to a smile shaking her head. "Pervert." 

Fred giggled. 

"No, I meant…" 

"Ah know what you meant. I was… jokin'." 

"It was a good joke." 

"Really?" 

Cordelia grinned. "Yeah." 

Fred smiled. 

The quiet remained, and Cordelia wistfully added, "I don't know where to go from here." 

"I don't know if anyone ever does." The Seer closed her eyes, took a breath, and nodded. 

When she opened them, she was ready to face the world, and her task. 

Standing, she gently pushed at the young scientist, grabbing Fred by the hand. 

"Come on, Nutty. Let's go see if Larry, Moe and Curly actually left any of those weird breakfast taco things for us." 

Once they were inside, Cordelia was distracted by Angel in the lobby, as he began to ask her something in a whispered tone that inferred it was only for the Seer's eyes. 

Fred didn't mind, she was having her own problems. 

Stepping into the office, the blatant hostility on Gunn's part directed at Wesley was almost overwhelming. 

The anger that had only been simmering was now close to boiling at the look of anguish on Wesley's face, and the look of blind jealousy on Gunn's. 

There was so many things wrong with this situation she had no idea where to even begin. 

Determined to be an adult about the situation, and not wish to be magically jolted out of the love triangle from hell, Fred balled her hands into fists and took a breath, choosing instead to ignore it… for now. 

Coming forward, she sat down in the chair, grabbing the notes she had compiled and rifling through them. 

"We need to find a way to help them," she began, eyes shifting between the two men. "We can't let them do this alone." 

"What can we do" Wesley asked, sinking down into his chair, hands tangled together, "that we aren't doing already?" 

"You got me, Wes," Gunn said, moving into the chair next to Fred. 

"Maybe we can figure out something tonight," she offered. 

Despite her patience, when Gunn opened his mouth to protest, it was quiet simply the last straw for her frazzled nerves. 

Annoyance and hurt at his lack of trust splintered through her and she glared at him, sitting up and shouting to the door, "Cordelia!" 

Four seconds later, Angel and Cordelia both stuck their heads in the office. "Yeah Fred?" she asked impatiently, apparently not pleased at being interrupted. 

"Can I go with you tonight?" she asked politely, throwing a thumb in Wesley's direction. "Gunn can help Wesley." 

Charles flinched at the cold use of his last name, but Fred was beyond caring. 

Cordelia glanced at Angel, who shrugged. "Sure. I guess." 

"Thanks." Fred smiled and got up. "I think I'll go pick what I'm going to wear." 

"Fred!" 

Gunn scrambled after her, pushing past Cordelia and Angel, catching Fred by the elbow as she moved up the stairs. "What are you so pissed about?" 

"You have to ask?" Fred snapped, snatching her hand away from his grasp. He looked at her helplessly. "You're in there treatin' Wesley like some…stranger and you're treating me like… some…" she huffed, wiping her bangs out of her face. "I thought you trusted me." 

Gunn looked flabbergasted, and his tone was timid, gentle, "Baby, I do-" 

"Don't you baby doll me. Ah know I'm not… all knowledgeable about… stuff when it comes to relationships but I know a thing or two about friendship and I think I liked that better that this…" 

"Fred!" 

"At least you trusted me when we were just friends, Gunn!" Her eyes suddenly began to sparkle and Gunn found himself rooted to the spot as she scrambled up the stairs, running away from him. 

Closing his eyes, he grunted in frustration, kicking at the stairs with all his might, turning back around and finding his three co-workers staring up at him in wide-eyed shock. 

He glared at them all, and wisely, Cordelia pushed Angel and Wesley back into the office, leaving him alone. 

Letting his knees buckle, he sat down at the stairs, torn between wanting to go up and demand Fred open the door so they could talk, and staying right here, and letting his heart splinter into a million pieces, wondering if she was right. 

But it had gone too far now… 

He smiled grimly. 

Here she was, the one who claimed not to know a thing about relationships and he was the one feeling like a first class asshole. 

He had lived for years on the streets, survived on his guts and kept people alive… 

But he let everyone down. 

And he had let even little Fred down. 

He buried his head in his hands, ignoring Cordelia as she jogged around him, up the stairs, to Fred's room. 

-- 

Fred jerked her dress off the hanger, throwing it on her bed, resisting the urge to grab the pen and scribble out her frustration on the walls. 

Her eyes were stinging with tears, and she wiped them away fiercely, moving back to the closet and choosing another dress, tossing it beside the first. 

The door creaked open slightly, and Fred glanced back, noting Cordelia leaning against the door with a curiously closed expression on her face. 

Fred ignored her, moving again to the closet, shoving another dress off the hanger to add to the pile. 

"Don't say it," she began stammering, "Ah don't care if he's hurt or mad 'cause he hurt me too! I … love hurts and I knew it and I did it anyway – and why doesn't he trust me? Does he even – and no I had to say those things to him and he probably thinks that – you know what? I don't care what he thinks because Gunn is just… he's a MAN and I'm probably better off with Wesley ANYWAY. Because Wesley's my friend and he knows about books and he probably wouldn't get jealous…" With that she crumpled, sinking down onto the floor, drawing her knees to her body, tears spilling from her eyes. 

Cordelia watched silently, and finally entered the room, closing the door behind her and reaching for a package of Kleenex, coming forward and settling beside Fred. 

"Wear the red dress," she said finally, carefully wiping the tears from Fred's eyes. "It looks great with your skin tone, and I've got some shoes that would match perfectly." Fred gazed at her in wonder, but Cordelia only smiled simply. "And you have to stop crying. I can't do anything about puffy eyes, and I'm a woman. Waterworks only work with men." 

She sniffled, and Cordelia's easy grin made her grin shakily back, as the Seer wrapped an arm around her and Fred leaned forward, resting her head on Cordelia's shoulder, taking comfort in her friend. 

"It doesn't get easier, does it?" she found herself whispering. 

Cordelia was quiet, stroking her shoulder thoughtfully. "No," she remarked finally, "it never does. But Fred." 

"Hmm." 

"In the end, they're worth it." 

Fred closed her eyes, feeling her heart shuddering within her. 

She hoped so. She really hoped so.   
  



	9. Chapter Nine

Title: Hungry Eyes   
Author: Misty Flores   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
Chapter Nine   
-- 

Fred stepped out of the car with a grim determination to enjoy herself despite the mire circumstances that surrounded that night. 

Wearing a long red dress that was slim fitting, her hair pulled up, and sporting the contacts she almost never bothered to bring out, Fred felt different… 

But not better. 

After all, the problems that were making her stomach queasy and her heart ache were definitely not any less solved, and Gunn and Wesley were still at the hotel and- 

Cordelia gave her a short distracted smile, reminding Fred the reason they were here was not a girl's night out, not by a long shot. 

Shifting in the dress and almost tripping on the heels, Fred caught a picture of herself and Cordelia as they passed the mirror in the darkened hallway, music only a dull throb now. 

Passing by, it was like looking into another world. A world where Cordelia walked on by without a second glance, the very picture of a rich young woman with no regard for anyone. The expression on her face was cold, almost disdainful, and trailing behind, in this curious world, was another stranger, a beautiful young woman with long brown curls and more make up than was needed in a tight red dress and sparkling brown eyes. 

She paused, looking into the mirror, thinking about possibilities and probabilities and the law of alternate universes. 

"Fred!" 

"Coming!" Startled out of her reverie, the young physicist moved quickly, catching up to Cordelia, eyes suddenly widening as the curtain was pulled open and they both stepped into the club. 

This was definitely… different. Fred clutched at her purse, muttering a harried 'Oh my' at the image on the stage, the dancing young man who gyrated his pelvis and smiled down at her. 

Her blush was discernable, she was sure of it, she could feel the heat of it on her cheeks, and she looked quickly away, wiping bangs out of her face as her mind floated back to Charles for one second before she forced it back to the present, following Cordelia into a corner table. 

Cordelia slid into the booth as if it was custom made for her and her form only. Fred hopped a bit, scooting in. 

"Ms. Chase." Immediately a smile that seemed foreign plastered on Cordelia's face as an older, balding man came to them, weaving around tables and clasping her hands. 

"Donald." 

"Lovely to see you again." 

"Lovely to be here," Cordelia returned warmly. Donald cast a curious eye in Fred's direction and Cordelia smoothly waved a hand over to her. "This is my friend, Ginger Burkle." 

Ginger? Fred began to shake her head to correct the name, but Cordelia shot her an icy look, and that was quite enough to shut her mouth and only shake his hand dutifully. 

"Bringing in new clients already?" 

"Hello, Rebecca." 

"Victoria!" Rebecca slid in next to her, looking genuinely happy to see Cordelia. 

Finally able to meet the infamous Rebecca face to face, Winnifred was mildly excited, only to find it quickly gave way to confusion. Fred cocked an eyebrow, studying the pimp. Definitely didn't SEEM the type to kill and ritually sacrifice other woman… in fact that had been bothering her this whole time. 

For someone that believed in women liberation and the deconstruction of boundaries and morals, it seemed … odd… that Rebecca Hull, tattooed or not, would really go as far as to sacrifice sexually active woman to a sex God. That seemed a direct opposition to her true beliefs. 

Crossing her arms, Fred frowned, unsure, mind whirling with the possibilities. 

By this time Rebecca and Cordelia were fully immersed in conversation, and Fred forced herself to turn to Donald, who just smiled at her. 

"New here?" 

Nodding, Fred attempted to sound elegant, but ended up with her accent plastering on more sugary sweetness than usual. "Victoria told me I had ta see this place to believe it." 

"Oh, honey, that's how I ended up here," he grinned a toothy grin, revealing a gold cap on his molar. "But you don't seem the type." 

Fred gave a sad smile. "I'm not," she admitted honestly, shifting eyes to Cordelia, who was still talking in low whispers to Ms. Hull, who was inching closer to Cordelia's side by the second. Slightly distracted by the hand Rebecca placed on Cordelia's forearm, Fred answered flippantly, "Ah had a fight with my boyfriend." 

"Ahhh…" he gave a low whistle of sympathy. "I know how that is." 

"Ginger." 

Fred just smiled at Donald. 

"Ginger." This time Cordelia pressed at her arm, and Fred suddenly remembered who she was supposed to be. 

"Oh! Hi, sorry!" 

Cordelia gave her a slightly narrowed gaze, and motioned with a jerk toward the man without a shirt waiting with a tray at the end of the table. 

Fred looked up, felt her heart jolt, and choked in surprise. 

Angel was standing there wearing nothing on his chest but a bowtie. 

She coughed, blushing furiously, and when her face got red from lack of air, Cordelia clapped her on the back, quickly saying to her friend, "She's fine for now, I think. I'll take a Red Bull with Absolut." 

"Ooooh. Rough day?" 

"You have no idea." 

"Actually," Donald stood. "I was just about to get a drink for myself. Angel?" 

The vampire only had eyes for Cordelia, and Fred was free to inspect him freely, and her eyes hungrily roving over the bare chest, feeling slightly guilty for doing so, and with good reason. 

Fred's eyes were still glued on Angel's chest, when Cordelia pinched her slightly. Fred felt the slight pain and jolted up, reaching up to set her glasses straight before realizing she wasn't wearing any. 

Rebecca leaned back, smiling at the scene. "Now there's a girl who needs to get laid." 

"She's not completely herself today," Cordelia said flippantly, eyes focused on Angel as he retreated toward the bar, Donald following. "She had a fight with her boyfriend." 

"Ohh… then you definitely need to get laid," Rebecca said with a smirk. 

Cordelia gave a short, grim smile before turning a serious look to the young owner. "Rebecca, can I talk to you alone?" 

Realizing she must have missed out on something largely important, Fred looked up, leaning in to hear the conversation, the loud music obstructing her from getting everything completely. 

The concern on the owner's face was evident as she nodded, getting up to let Cordelia out. "Sure." 

Donald came back with the drinks, setting down Cordelia's. 

"Excuse me," he said, his voice harried. "One of the ladies seemed to have a little too much to drink and is taking it out on our bathroom." 

Cordelia pushed the drink to Fred as he walked away, giving her a grim smile. "Have it, I'll be right back. Don't MOVE." 

Cordelia's eyes narrowed and suddenly ill at ease, Fred nodded emphatically, hands in her lap, taking in a harried breath as Cordelia followed Rebecca through the club disappearing when she walked through a door on the far end. 

Waiting, Fred sat, mind suddenly calculating, wondering if she should have perhaps followed them in for the confrontation. 

Fluttering with logic and possibilities, Fred contemplated the nature of the case, and the thought crossed her mind that they honestly did not have enough evidence of yet to confront anyone. 

Then again, there rarely was enough of that in their business. 

She was quickly beginning to learn that logic sometimes never had anything to do with anything but math. Her mouth pulled into a frown as she reached for Cordelia's drink, eyes suddenly moist as a well of buried emotion came bubbling to the surface. 

The lights flickered, and a young black man stepped onto the stage, smiling devilishly. The piercing cries of the women in the room were almost too much to handle. 

There was a jolt in Fred's heart, one that came fueled with more than a little anger as she remembered her real reason for coming, and more than ever determined to enjoy herself, she wrapped her palm around Cordelia's Absolut with Red Bull, taking one large gulp. 

It almost made her gag, and she set it down quickly, but it made her slightly lightheaded, and feeling a bit better, she smiled, suddenly able to appreciate the man's movements much more. 

-- 

"So what are you saying, English, that the demon isn't about female empowerment at all, but about domination?" Charles Gunn slumped back in his seat, completely confused, shaking his head. 

Wesley clucked his tongue, eyes roving over the pages. "I know it sounds odd, but this isn't the Greek mythology that we've come to embrace. It's convoluted, a demon that's taken what's familiar and perverted it." 

Charles lolled his tongue around his mouth, getting up and moving around the desk to peek over Wesley's shoulder. "So you're saying this guy is playing Cupid and 'Dite, but ain't really it?" 

"Farthest thing." Wesley flipped some pages, and then pointed out the drawing in Cordelia's sketch. "Have you heard the parable of the genie?" 

"Do I look like I would know about the parable of some funny old genie?" 

Wesley ignored the gripe and continued with the story, "In short, a man was granted three wishes, but each wish became a curse instead." 

Gunn sank back down in the desk, "So you're saying that this dude may SEEM to be all about gratifying love and sex and all that but really is more about-" 

"Parasite. Feeds off the emotion – under the guise." 

Charles and Wesley locked eyes, and Gunn nodded, blowing out his breath. "Well now we're getting somewhere." 

Wesley shut the books, reaching for the telephone, punching in some numbers. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Calling Angel. I'm hesitant to confront Ms. Hull until we know for sure the extent of her power." 

"Or, I can go!" Gunn immediately rose, reaching for his jacket. "And umm…. Talk to them…" The words died at Wesley's look, and both men suddenly looked away, the real reason for Gunn's enthusiasm obvious. 

"Gunn…" Wesley rose, but Charles immediately shrugged him off, expression unreadable as he jerked toward the doorway. 

"Don't, Wesley-" 

"I'm merely trying to-" 

"I get it, okay?" Charles finally snapped, swallowing hard as he turned back, turning hard eyes at Wesley. "I know that I'm being irrational and judgmental and I have no right to not trust you or her, but you know what? It don't matter. Maybe I don't trust myself, I don't know. But I need time." 

"You'll lose her, Gunn," Wesley said quietly, hands in his pockets, tone solemn. "And what happens then?" 

Charles froze in the doorway, as the words sunk in, and shoulders slumping, he just left as if he hadn't heard a word. 

-- 

"Come on." 

Cordelia followed Rebecca into her office, noting the sincere concern that was easily readable on Rebecca's expression. 

It made her more than a little queasy. Since her entrance into the club this evening, Cordelia had been fighting the anxiety that came with going into a situation almost blindly. Her hands balled into rather unlady-like fists, and it made her unclench them thoughtfully, hoping that Rebecca hadn't noticed. 

Sinking into the chair opposite her desk, watching as Rebecca's eyes drifted from her hands to her eyes, Cordelia realized with a sinking stomach that she in fact, had. 

Should she wait for Angel? 

Cordelia glanced apprehensively over her shoulder, noting that the eye contact with Angel stating her purpose might not have been enough. The dork sometimes had the intuition of a toad. 

"You okay?" 

Cordelia blew out her breath, managing a grim smile as she crossed her legs, leaning back into her chair. "Not really." When Cordelia looked back towards the door a second time, Rebecca sighed. 

"Don't worry, I already know." 

Cordelia blinked, taken completely by surprise. 

"You do?" 

Rebecca nodded, frowning, her voice sympathetic. "Don't worry. He's getting fired today." 

A blank look invaded Cordelia's face, her mouth dropping open. "Huh?" 

Rebecca gave a short, sad smile. "I know he didn't… well I know and um… he pretty much had to-" 

Cordelia's mind grappled with the realization. "You're firing Angel?!?" 

"Victoria I know you like him, but if he didn't make you-" 

The door opened and Cordelia's head swiveled, catching Angel's gaze in wide-eyed panic as he stepped into the office, closing the door firmly behind him. 

"Angel, good." Rebecca rose, motioning to the seat beside Cordelia. "Take a seat." 

Angel looked almost unsure, turning to Cordelia with expressive eyebrows but she only shrugged helplessly. 

"Cordelia?" 

"I haven't exactly told her yet." 

This time it was Rebecca's turn to look confused. "Cordelia?" 

-- 

Someone in this place was most definitely loud. 

Fred tore her eyes away from the man grinding on the stage, found herself slurring a bit as she nearly tipped on the leather seat, waving her hands. 

"SHUT UP!" 

With a smile, she sank back into her chair, tipping the rest of the contents of the drink into her mouth, smiling blissfully up at the dancing man. 

The room was so brilliantly alive with colors and remarkable contours and she was feeling slightly sleepy, but her smile was never so wide and she had never felt so completely… uninhibited. 

"Ms. Burkle?" 

Winnifred swung her head around and smiled at what seemed to be two different Donalds. 

"Hulooo." 

"Umm… Are you feeling all right?" 

"I'm absolutely perfect, thank you." 

"I see…" He looked suspicious, but only pursed his mouth. "And Miss Chase?" 

Cordelia. Where was Cordelia? Fred frowned, searching the club and her mind before she shrugged helplessly, smiling sunnily up at the man. "Maybe she's off boffing Angel." 

"Fred?" 

The familiar voice made Fred smile even wider, as her body twisted and Wesley was engulfed into a hug. 

"WESLEY!" 

"Perhaps some water," Donald muttered, moving away. 

The image of Fred Burkle smiling so… cheerfully up at the strange man, exposing so much cleavage, was disconcerting enough, but now the armful of the young girl made Wesley blush, as he carefully pulled her arms away from his neck, setting her back down in the bench, ignoring the curious patrons that were beginning to look their way. 

"What are ya doin' here, Wes?" 

"I… have a message for Angel…" Fred's fingers slid between the top two buttons of his shirt, and Wesley gasped, wrapping fingers around her palms and jerking them away. "Fred are you alright?" 

"I'm so GOOD, Wesley." She grinned cheekily, resting her head on his shoulder and gazing up at him adoringly. "You're so cute." 

The blush intensified, and Wesley swallowed down the betraying sense of emotions as he patted her awkwardly. "Are you drunk?" 

"Don't be silly, Wesley!" She sounded absolutely horrified at the thought. "Ah've barely even had a drink of the Red Cow-" she fumbled with the now empty tumbler until Wesley grabbed it out of her hand and set it on the other side of the round table, out of her reach. 

"Fred, WHERE is Cordelia?" 

"Ah was just tellin' that man that ah think she's boffing Angel…" She snuggled deeper into Wesley's arms, "They've got kyerumption, ya know." 

Wesley groaned, glasses glinted as Fred continued to position her hands in rather compromising positions, searching the room for any sign of Cordelia or Angel. 

-- 

"Who the hell is Cordelia?" 

Angel sent Cordelia an annoyed glare, but the Seer only narrowed her eyes and gave as good as she got. 

Rebecca stood, and her attention was diverted, her tone even as she remarked, "That would be me. Rebecca I don't we've been entirely honest with you. Angel's not a stripper-" 

"Damn right he's not. He's fired." 

"I'm actually- FIRED?! I'M FIRED?!" 

"Angel honey," Cordelia reached forward, wrapping her hand around his arm. "Kinda not the point." 

Rebecca's eyes caught the intimate gesture, her mouth floating open in surprise. Backing up, suddenly eyeing the door, she demanded, "What the hell is going on?" 

"Angel and I are detectives," Cordelia said, reaching into her purse and flipping out a business card. 

"What the hell did I do to get fired?" Angel asked, apparently still not quite able to get past that one point. 

Rebecca reached for the card, sucking in her breath as she read off the name, "Cordelia Chase. FUCK." Slamming the card down, she reaching into her drawer and pulled out a check book. "What the hell is this gonna cost?" 

"Cost?" 

"Money." Rebecca's eyes were cold as she opened the book, pen poised to write. "I'm assuming you take bribes." 

"We're not working with the police," Angel said, crossing his arms, blocking the path to the doorway with his heavy set frame. 

"We're here to talk about this," Cordelia said, placing the missing videotape on the desk, the red rose next to it. 

"What, the video tapes?" Rebecca shook her head, obviously panicked. 

"Bribes? I notice you're not entirely unfamiliar with the concept?" Cordelia asked, voice and tone inferring as she settled down into the chair. 

"You think that I- that this- NO!" Rebecca slammed her hand down, sweeping her hand wide to the stack on the bookshelves. "I run a business, CORDELIA. The videotapes, the monitors are there to make sure my boys perform, that's all. That's how I knew you faked it." 

Cordelia allowed one small smirk of triumph at Angel. "See?" 

"You were NOT FAKING!" 

"Oh, I so was." 

Angel let out a growl, turning his glare at Rebecca. "She was not faking. And… FIRED?!" 

"You're a horrible stripper Angel! You MUST have seen it coming-" 

"Angel-" 

"She didn't fake, okay-" 

"Angel-" 

"What the HELL is up with his face?" The panicked look that fled over Rebecca's face made Cordelia jerk her head back to Angel. 

"Angel! Game face off! Now!" 

Rebecca was now completely pressed against the wall, body shaking with fear. 

Cordelia just rolled her eyes. "Oh please. You sacrifice women to the demon God and a little vampire is supposed to scare you?" 

"Little?" Cordelia absently patted Angel's shoulder to appease him. 

But Rebecca looked completely shocked. "I - WHAT?" 

-- 

"Yo man, she can't do that in here." 

The large black man appeared almost out of nowhere, and Wesley found the shiver running down his spine, yelping when Fred's roaming hands reached under his belt. 

"I- uh…Sorry… I can't seem to-" 

"Come on," Brian motioned, taking the wobbly Fred by the arm, helping Wesley. "Let's see if fresh air will do something for her." 

Fred giggled, mumbled something intelligible before slipping, forcing Wesley to wrap his arms around her waist, bringing her soft form closer to him. 

Gritting his teeth, he ignored the whispers in the soft southern accent, nodding to the bouncer. "I'm terribly sorry." 

"She's just drunk, it happens." Wesley eyes glanced suspiciously toward the cup, but he only swallowed and nodded, following Brian toward the door. 

"Perhaps fresh air will do you good, right Fred?" 

"Wesley, I love your glasses," she whispered, and pressed her lips gently against his. 

-- 

"Are you two insane?" 

The reaction caught them both off guard, and for a second all three only stared at each other blankly. 

"So you're telling me that the five-plus murders we've linked to your club and your Red Roses, you know nothing about?" Cordelia asked skeptically. "Please. I may be half baked but I am still a woman." 

Rebecca's legs gave out from under her, and Cordelia and Angel followed the movement as she slumped onto the floor. 

"I have no idea what the FUCK you are talking about!" 

Cordelia suddenly lost all patience. Ignoring the tears, she walked forward, kneeling down and grabbing Rebecca's wrist, pulling up the sleeve. 

She froze, staring down at the tattoo, and her voice seemed very much like a growl as she turned, eyes narrowed down at the vampire who was watching with crossed arms. 

"Angel…." 

"What?" 

She yanked the arm up, showing him the tattoo. "This is a tattoo of a POWER PUFF GIRL." 

Angel paused, suddenly confused. "Are you sure?" 

"Yes, I'm SURE." 

Rebecca yanked her arm back, cradling it carefully to her. 

"What do you have against the Power Puff Girls?" 

-- 

Donald sighed, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the elegantly tailored handkerchief. 

Thank God. 

Finally able to breathe, he took in a large breath of air, letting the cool air refresh him, thankful to be rid of the smoke, the shrieks and the noise, at least for now. 

Reaching for his keys, he moved to the door of his Cadillac, opening the door, distracted suddenly when two young men and an obviously drunk young woman came around the corner of the club. 

Leaning against the car, he observed, shaking his head in disgust before moving forward to intercept them, pulling off his blazer in the process. 

-- 

"It… looked similar." 

Cordelia sighed, running hands through her long extensions, sending Angel a scathing look. "I could kill you right now." 

Angel glared right back at her, and reached into his pocket, kneeling down in front of the very scared, and now it appeared, seemingly innocent, Rebecca. 

"Rebecca, I know you're scared, but I'm not going to hurt you." Taking out a folded slip of paper, he held it up to the light. "Have you seen anybody wearing something that looks like this?" 

Rebecca, sweaty and slouched against the wall, straightened up, leaning forward to inspect it. 

"Yeah," she said finally, grabbing onto Angel's hand to pull herself up, straightening her suit. "I know whose that is." She pursed her lips, shaking her head forcefully. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Whoever has this tattoo is the one doing the murders," Cordelia said, leaning against the desk. "We have no time. Who is it?" 

Rebecca narrowed her eyes. "Why would Donald murder all these women?" 

-- 

Wesley felt slightly uneasy as the man approached them, on his face an obviously displeased frown. 

"I'm terribly sorry, sir-" he began, but immediately was cut off, as the older man snapped at the young black bouncer. 

"This isn't the one. You KNOW it's not the one." 

"Yeah, well I didn't serve her the drink," Brian snapped back, "You did." 

"I gave it to the right girl." 

"Does this look like the right girl?" Brian asked, motioning to the woman in Wesley's arms. 

The words created an aura of fear inside of Wesley, as he took a breath, suddenly stepping back from the two men. 

His eyes roved down to the man who had joined them, and noticed a very similar tattoo on his wrist. 

Bloody Hell. 

"Fred," he whispered, stumbling under the elfin girl's repeated caresses. "Come on…" 

She seemed almost completely gone, head lolling back, eyes closing. 

Donald turned, inspecting the British man with cold eyes. "Take care of him." 

Brian smiled and Wesley had no time to drop Fred to protect himself when the fist slammed into his face. 

Falling back, his head hit the pavement, a large crack splintered into his ear drums, and the world went completely black. 

-- 

There was no time left for stealth as Cordelia rifled through Donald's files, moving quickly as Rebecca continued her rant. 

"So you're saying he's been using my club as a front for ritual demon sacrifices?" 

At Angel's harried nod, she sucked in her breath. "The bastard." 

Cordelia only snapped, "Rebecca, we'll embrace your pain later, okay?" 

"Look." Angel stood, slamming the vault on the desk and with a fist slammed down on top of it, broke the lock. 

Rebecca turned, reaching in, pulling out the herbs, the sketches… 

"Witchcraft?" 

"Oh yeah." 

"I have to check on Fred," Cordelia said, moving out of the office. 

Rebecca sucked in her breath, slamming down the articles and following her. "Damn bastard son of a bitch-" 

Angel ignored the stares of the various male strippers, pushing past the crowd in Donald's doorway. 

"That girl looking for the cute little chica that came in with her?" 

Angel paused, turning back to Rolando. "Yeah. Where is she?" 

"Drunk as hell. Brian and some other guy took her out." 

Angel gave him a dark look, and immediately headed for the doorway.   



	10. Chapter Ten

**Title: Hungry Eyes**   
**Author: Misty Flores**   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
**Chapter Ten**   
-- 

Charles Gunn's throat was dry, extremely dry, and no amount of swallowing or licking his lips seemed to moisten the parched mouth. 

Kneeling down on the asphalt, he looked in panic over the darkness of the road, and reached back again, bringing his hand in contact with Wesley's forehead. 

This time, the slap was sound. Wesley's head jerked sideways, and his eyes opened groggily. 

Gunn's heart jolted within him as Wesley moaned. "Wes, man! Wake up, dude." 

Wesley stared up at him blankly, reaching up to position his glasses more firmly against his face. "Gunn?" 

Gunn smiled grimly, pressing a hand against his shoulder. "You okay?" 

"I … there's an – Oww…" 

Taking Gunn's offered hand, Wesley pulled himself up, wobbling slightly, reaching up to catch the warm slickness that was trickling over his head. 

"Oh… my…" 

"Here," Gunn reached into his pocket, pulling out a wrinkled tissue and pressing it against the wound. "Wesley man, I'm – where's Fred?" 

Fred. 

"Good Lord." Immediately Wesley's eyes jerked opened and he pushed away, trying to run and found himself slamming into the ground again. 

"WESLEY!" Charles' voice sounded panicked as he came forward, pulling Wesley up against his chest, palm cradling his face. "Come on, man. Shit. You don't look so good." 

"Gunn, I'm sorry. I tried to save her…" his answer was feeble, and Gunn looked at him blankly. 

Charles' tone was scratchy and hesitant, and incredibly full of fear, "Wesley. Where's Fred!" 

"Wesley!" Charles looked up to find Cordelia, Angel and another dark haired woman in a dark business suit jogging toward them. 

"Cordy." 

"What happened to Wesley?" she asked hurriedly, kneeling down to take Wesley's head into her lap, sucking in her breath when she touched the blood. 

"Fred," Wesley breathed. "They took Fred." 

"Gunn?" Angel asked, kneeling down next to Wesley. 

Gunn still had the particular problem of a dry throat, and he swallowed hard, trying to retain enough moisture to speak above the rapidly beating panic of his own heart. 

"I don't know, man. I came by, was gonna try to apologize to Fred," he waved the flowers that were still clenched in his hand, "And I found Wesley… bleeding and stuff." 

"Plastic flowers," Wesley muttered, burying his face into Cordelia's lap. "She likes plastic flowers." 

"Oh, God…" Cordelia carefully turned his head with her fingers. "It's a pretty hard hit." 

"Dammit." Angel slammed the glass he was holding into the ground, shattering the tumbler into pieces. 

Gunn felt his heart sink. "What happened to Fred?" 

"That's what we're trying to find out," Cordelia said, suddenly turning to the woman who was now searching the parking lot, hands on her hips. "Rebecca?" 

The young woman turned, shaking her head. "I don't see his car." 

"He has Fred," Cordelia breathed, anxiety clouding the hazel of her eyes. "I know it." 

Angel, still kneeling over the broken shards of the glass. "We shouldn't have left her alone." 

"Angel we had no idea this would happen," Cordelia said, her voice small. 

"We should have known. Some damned detectives we are." 

"I know where he's going," Rebecca said, motioning with her hands. "The bastard's house is so big you could fit a plane in it, and there's one place he's never let me go." 

Cordelia and Angel exchanged glances, and the Seer's shoulders slumped, struggling under Wesley's weight as she began to rise. "Guys, help me out here." 

Gunn immediately came forward, taking on the burden of Wesley. "Come on, English, lean against me. We're gonna take care of ya soon." 

"Gunn." The Ex-Watcher's hands curled around the lapel of Gunn's jacket, making the younger man freeze. Wesley's dark eyes were clouded in pain, but they were sincere. "I'm terribly sorry. I tried to protect her." 

The lump in Gunn's throat seemed to grow monumentously, and he swallowed it down with effort, heart suddenly giving within him. "'Ain't your fault man." 

"Gunn-" 

"No, listen," Gunn gripped the sides of his arms almost painfully, but his voice enunciated every word. "It wasn't your fault. I trust you with her, and if you did everything you can, I believe you." 

Wesley was quiet, the dark eyes bore into his, and slowly he nodded, closing his eyes and slipping again. 

--   
The beauty behind the simplicity of pi was the utter genius of the less than complicated equation. 

Fred blinked at the thought, her mind drowsy as she slowly became alert, trying to understand what it was she had just said. 

Eyes drifting open, she stifled a yawn, reaching up to rub at her eyes, only to find she could not, because her hands were bound behind her. 

Freezing, the panic came almost automatically, and Winnifred swallowed, jolting her head in various directions in an attempt to get her bearings. 

The car ride was smooth, but that was neither comforting nor made the situation any easier, because the two men from the club were watching her with less than gentle eyes. 

With a parched mouth, she tried to speak, but found it came out as nothing more than an accented croak. "Umm… hi," she began nervously. 

The headache seemed to come out of nowhere, and Fred winced, clutching her forehead, a low moan of pain escaping her. 

The voices drifting around her were disinterested, almost annoyed. "Must have given her too much." 

"Doesn't matter. We don't need her healthy. Just alive. For now." 

For some reason he thought it was witty, because there was a low, deep throated laugh that accompanied that statement. 

The fear jolted down Fred's spine in one large shiver, the overwhelming urge to lost control and completely freak out sliding through her simultaneously. 

She began to tremble, a sob emerging from her throat. 

Attempting to fight the pain long enough to get her bearings, her eyes drifted open, her mind whirling with unanswered questions, instinctively wishing to be in the fairy tale land where Gunn and Angel and Wesley came for her- 

Where were they? 

The car stopped, jolting her forward, and the door was jerked open, rough hands reaching in and wrapping around her smaller limbs, making her grit her teeth in pain as she tripped on the gravel, stumbling forward, only to be caught gruffly by the tall dark bouncer. 

"You got a wimp, Donald." 

Donald was already walking to the door, opening it and stepping forward. 

Fred felt tears stinging her face, but still she said nothing, eyes darting around the mansion that loomed dark and deadly before her before she was shoved in. 

-- 

"This is my fault." 

Angel glanced over, saw Cordelia hunched in the corner of the convertible eyes stricken with grief. 

"It's not-" 

"What are you talking about? *I* left her alone. *I* said she could come. *I* handed her the drink-" 

"That drink was supposed to be for you?" Rebecca interrupted, leaning forward to poke her head between the two seats. 

Angel stared at her curiously, and forcing himself to turn his attention back to the road, listened attentively. 

Cordelia nodded. "I gave it to her when I asked to talk to you." 

Rebecca Hull clucked at her teeth, eyes lost in thought, reaching for the file and perusing through it. "All the woman that died were newbies. That's how I didn't know about them. I just assumed they had left town." 

"Faster, Angel," Cordelia breathed. 

Angel felt the jolt of anger coupled with fear slide into him and he shoved his foot down hard, making the convertible jump forward, accelerate down the highway. 

-- 

"You know you really don't hafta push." 

That particular statement came after she had been shoved into yet ANOTHER room, the retort coming automatically from her mouth as her irritation at being herded like cattle – she'd had enough of that in Pylea thank you very much- making her stomp her feet as she regained her balance, whirling on the men who were putting on very dark robes. 

"I can walk on my own…" the firmness in her tone faded slightly at the sight of the knife that gleamed in the candles, and Fred clenched her fists, ever mindful of the headache that refused to go away, the wobbly knees, the nausea that all pointed toward some kind of drugging. 

The room was dark, dank… uninviting, reminding Fred of the dreaded rooms in the Pylean dungeon she had worked so hard to stay out of when she got lost. 

She was lost again. 

Oh, God, she was lost again. 

Her breath constricted and the tears welled up, and barely able to catch herself, she brought her palm up, biting down on the meaty portion in an effort to stop it. 

Cordelia had told her, if she was ever in this situation, to stave. 

Cordelia knew how to stave. 

God, she should have really paid more attention to Cordelia's lectures about staving. 

The statue at the altar was surprisingly small, a young, hunched over demon with wings that looked like a demented gargoyle. 

Fred squinted, jerking her eyes back to the circle of men who waited expectantly. 

"Ummm…. So… hello…" she managed nervously, giving them a little wave. 

Donald came forward, sliding on a black robe, glancing at her impatiently. "Well?" 

For some reason she got the distinct impression that he was expecting her to do something. 

"Well what?" she asked nervously, trying to hear above her rapidly beating heart. 

"Get on with the begging and pleading and crying," he said, mimicking some poor girl's cries as he rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. "So we can get on with it." 

"Oh." Fred paused, blinking, and rubbed at her forearms insecurely. "I'm afraid I don't understand." 

He stared at her blankly. 

"For your life. We're going to rape and kill you." 

"Oh. Well… that doesn't… sound pleasant…" she muttered, stepping backwards nervously, closer to the ugly statue. 

Donald's mouth dropped slightly at the uncharacteristic reaction, and he gave a puzzled look to his compatriots, before turning back to Fred. "This is the part where they usually scream and beg for their lives." 

"Oh. OH. Well I hate to be a disappointment, but this ain't exactly new," she remarked, shrugging haphazardly, eyes shifting again around the room. 

Cordelia said that in order to stave you had to keep them occupied. 

Fred's own logic concurred, and she found herself pausing, reflecting on the wonder where Cordelia's common sense and her own logic seemed … to mesh. 

Despite the incredibly dire circumstances and her own impending death, she felt a smirk climb onto her face. 

"Umm… I think she's smiling," Brian offered, leaning against the back wall. 

Fred immediately straightened her face. "Sorry," she remarked. Continuing to back away, she murmured, "Umm… Ah really don't think you want to do this. Ah mean… my boyfriend and my friends won't take too kindly to you rapin' me and-" 

"Boyfriend?" Donald spit the word out, almost disgusted. "What kinda of man wants a bitch like you?" 

She blinked, startled by the insult. "Huh? Hey!" 

The chanting began, words that she recognized, absently translating while Donald began to speak, coming forward. 

_To you we come, great Cosmos-_

"Women these days. They have… absolutely no morals," he began, shaking his head. "No respect for their own chastity. Whores… willing to pay for a man to invade them-" 

"I haven't paid anyone to…" Fred trailed off, deciding to let the insult slide, as she continued her retreat backwards, eyes frantically searching the room for any escape. 

Of course, there was none. 

_He whom understands our laws, our natures, we come to you now with our most precious sacrifice._

"He's going to set it right." 

_The loins from which we have been borne-_

Uh-oh. Fred swallowed, looking back and finding the silly looking statue's eyes beginning to glow. 

Okay… good time to panic. 

-- 

The convertible swerved, the gravel splattering, the truck slamming into a stop right behind them. 

Immediately four doors swung open and the vampire, the muscle, the brains and the heart all stepped out, slamming doors simultaneously and walking to the gate. 

"HEY!" 

Cordelia turned back, suddenly realizing she had locked the pimp in the car. 

"Sorry." Rebecca only rolled her eyes, opening the door and coming up to meet them. 

Angel pursed his lips, eyes shifting over the metal gate that kept them from going any further. 

Gunn stepped forward, movements nervous and shifty as he tugged on the gates, eyes dangerously wild. 

"FUCK!" he growled, kicking at the gates. 

"Gunn," Cordelia stepped forward, her voice soft, but the man only shook her off, staring at the barrier with moistened eyes. 

"We can't be too late," he muttered hoarsely. 

"We won't be," Wesley said, his voice firm, despite the pained expression on his face. "We'll pick the lock if we have to." 

The vampire had said nothing during all of this, but he startled the Seer standing next to him when he launched up the twenty foot tall gated fence, and vaulted to the other side, running up into the driveway. 

"Uhh… that's new…" she muttered. 

"Bloody hate when he does that," Wesley muttered. 

"What about the rest of us?" Gunn asked angrily. 

Creaking rust filled their ears as the gate suddenly began to move, opening before them. 

Stunned, Cordelia suddenly remembered Rebecca, who was holding up her key card, shaking her head in pity. "You guys always do things the hard way?" 

Gunn didn't answer, instead he and Wesley were the first to run after Angel. 

Cordelia paused only to say a frenzied prayer for Fred, refusing to let the guilt seep through her for fear it would paralyze her. 

She had told Fred she would have been safe with her. Had told her that long ago. 

What a freakin' joke that was. 

-- 

The chanting was louder now, almost in sync with the furious pace of Fred's heartbeat, which thumped, thumped, louder and louder until it was drumming into her ear drums. 

"Don't you think we're rushing things a bit?" she stammered, keeping her backwards pacing. "I mean we hardly even know each other-" 

"I don't need to know anything about you," Donald said methodically, coming forward, hands crossed behind his back. "Everything is written in your face. Just like all the others." 

"My…" Fred's hands rose to her face self consciously, before she felt the jolt of anger that felt actually good instead of the fear, and seized that instead. "I'm not… I'm FRED. Gunn says that's all I need to BE!" Her hands waved wildly, and when Donald's face suddenly contorted in fear, Fred realized just how close to the statue she was. 

Her hand knocked the thing over, and the room was filled with male voices gone shrill when the thing teetered, and almost in slow motion, crashed to the floor… splintering into the pieces. 

The room was dead silent, and Fred, suddenly sheepish, nudged at the pieces with her heel clad feet, managing an embarrassed smile. 

"Oops?" 

-- 

Angel stumbled in through the open door, pausing long enough to morph into the demonic face, sniff the air, and suddenly growl, launching into the direction that held Fred's scent. 

Charles Gunn was never more glad that Angel was a vampire than at that moment, as he pumped his legs, barely managing to keep the vamp in sight as Angel continued to run. 

Every fiber of his being was suddenly consumed with overwhelming emotion, and Gunn felt the strong resonating in his head, "Not Fred, not Fred… not Fred too…" 

It echoed, splintered into his head and it made his vision blur, which he tried to correct by wiping rough sleeves on his face in an attempt to get the tears off, and it made him allow one soft wrench from his body. 

He was scared shitless. 

And damn… if Angel could find Fred, if they could save Fred and Angel helped him, Gunn would take it all back and make Angel a damned blood brother. 

The homeboy could have Gunn's Type B for dinner. 

Just as long as Fred was safe. 

-- 

Cordelia had long since abandoned the heels, as she and Rebecca Hull brought up the rear, attempting to keep up, following the vampire and the rest of the Fang Gang down the stairs as quickly as they could. 

"Wait." Rebecca paused, and suddenly yanked Cordelia's arm, pulling her to the side and slamming her hand on a button. "Elevator," she explained. 

Cordelia considered telling Rebecca to take her elevator and shove it, but her feet were already blistered from the gravel, and not wanting to think about the pedicure bills, she let the doors open, slipping into it with Rebecca, who slammed her hand down again on the 'down' button. 

"So…" Rebecca asked in the silence that followed. "Do this a lot?" 

"No. Usually I'm the one being sacrificed," Cordelia muttered, tapping her feet as she waited impatiently, seconds ticking away… and time was so important right now- it was so damn important. 

But one lingering thought nagged her. 

"Why on EARTH do you have a POWER PUFF tattoo?!" 

Rebecca gave her an arched eyebrow, but she had no time to explain, as the elevator drifted to a stop and the doors swung open. 

-- 

"YOU BROKE IT!" Donald ran past her, swinging a heavy arm in her direction that she managed to avoid… mostly, making her stumble back as he knelt beside the fallen idol, gathering the pieces lovingly, voice hiccupping. 

"I said I was sorry." 

"Kill her-" 

"Fred you broke the statue?" 

The familiar voice caused such a jolt in Fred's heart that she almost couldn't breath for relief, as her head whipped to the side to catch Cordelia walking into the room, that scary Pimpy Girl behind her. 

"Cordelia!" she cried in relief. 

"Donald!" Rebecca stalked into the room, eyes glinting with rage. "May I have a word?" 

A loud crash made the candles flicker, Fred jumped and immediately Cordelia was thrown back by a robed man, but it was okay. 

Because Angel and Wesley and Gunn ran into the room. 

"The staving works…" Fred found herself wondering out loud. 

Angel wore the demonic face with a smile, as he singled out the large black man, back handing another who dared to come close and pointing a finger. 

"BRIAN! JUST who I wanted to see!" 

"Cordelia!" 

The young Seer ducked under a punch and delivered one of her own, making the man swivel and land into Wesley's waiting fists. 

Fred stood, hands at her sides as she awkwardly stared at Charles. 

"Charles!" she found herself suddenly breaking forward. 

Gunn's eyes were so incredibly dark, so intense as he came forward, suddenly on his knees in front of her. "Fred baby, I'm sorry." 

Fred blinked, eyes shifting over her shoulder. 

"Umm… Gunn…" 

"I know you've got every reason to be mad at me, but I care about you, girl, and-" 

"Charles…" 

"I want to make it up to you, baby, I do-" 

"GUNN!" Fred pressed her fingers into his shoulders, making him pause. "Behind you!" 

Whipping his head around, she caught the tail end of his "Whoa" before he leaped up and pushed her out of the way, catching the ax handle that came down with his bare hands and kicking the assailant hard in his stomach, bringing the man to his knees. 

Fred looked around wildly, finally grabbed the largest piece of the broken idol and slammed it down on the man's head. 

He fell without further protest. 

She found herself staring at Charles in awkward silence. 

"Are you…" Her knees suddenly gave way, and in a flash he was there, big comfy and oh so strong Gunn, who gathered her up into his arms and held her close, palms gentle as he caressed her hair. 

She closed her eyes, shuddering against him and holding him close, breathing in a whiff of the masculine smell she had come to adore. 

"You okay?" 

"Umm… Post trauma," she whispered. "Shock maybe… I'll be fine… if my heart ever insists on beatin' regularly." 

The noise around them seemed to filter out as he stared at her, fingers caressing the tip of her jaw, a smirk quirking on his lips. "Yeah I can feel it." 

She paused, suddenly aware, so very aware of his large masculine frame, of the way her fingers clutched at the shirt of his… and the fact she was supposed to be mad at him. 

"Look… Gunn…" 

"Wait… before you say anything…" Gunn took a breath, looking nervous and tired, and surprised, Fred waited, unsure of what to expect. "I… look Fred… I'm no good for you. I know that okay? I'm afraid that … one day you'll figure out that you're better off with anybody else… but… I need you. I came in here trying to rescue you and shit but… that ain't what's happening Fred. Truth is… I need you to rescue me." 

Charles wasn't an eloquent speaker, but Fred marveled at his words, knowing he couldn't have said anything more perfect had he been Voltaire himself. 

The smile that slid onto her face was genuine, the lump in her throat quite uncomfortable, but there was no ache, or pain… 

There was no fear. 

"I'm sorry I yelled at you." 

The words came out edged in soft, meek, but gentle caring, and he blinked, at first not understanding, but when her smile grew wider, he suddenly felt the need to smile back, and Fred guessed they looked pretty silly there smiling like that at each other. 

His lips were gentle, and she sighed into his caress, lips feather soft against his, only to be jolted out of the make up by the growl that could have only come from Angel. 

Heads inching apart, Fred blinked when she realized she had missed the entire action sequence. 

Angel now stood over the fallen tall bouncer, a proud expression on his face. 

His leg reached back, as if to kick him once more, but Cordelia stopped him, pulling him back. 

"HEY! Dork. He's down." 

"Cordelia, stay out of this." 

"Right cause THAT works every time you say it. Listen Angel-" 

"Why do you always have to ignore everything I say? This guy needs a lesson-" 

"You broke out all his teeth! Don't you think that's enough? Let the police take the rest!" 

"Cordelia he was about to sacrifice Fred!" 

Cordelia paused, the hazel eyes conflicted as her gaze flickered to Fred. Leaning her head against Gunn's chest, Fred only offered her a soft smile. 

With a grunt, Cordelia whirled and kicked Brian herself. 

"There." 

"Fred." Gunn squeezed her shoulders, and motioned. 

Turning, all five members of Angel Investigations watched in open admiration as Rebecca sat on Donald, slamming fist after fist into his face. 

"Damn. Pimp Girl belongs on the ring." 

"Take THAT YOU BIG MOUTHED CHEATING BASTARD-" 

Wesley Wyndham Price's head was aching, his heart was softly beating, but also held the curious ache as he leaned against the wall, looking across the room to the litter of fallen men and the standing compatriots. 

He wasn't quite sure what he was thinking, as he held the blood soaked handkerchief on his head, but he was aware of one simple thing that gave the old soul some resemblance of hope. 

On his face, with no prodding at all, was a smile.   
--   
  



	11. Chapter Eleven

**Title: Hungry Eyes**   
**Author: Misty Flores**   
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com   
Teaser: When Angel Investigations investigates a murder at a local strip joint, one of the crew gets a little more undercover than they bargained for. 

--   
**Chapter Eleven**

The sirens that had previously cut through the night were now silent, leaving only the red and white beams that swiveled off the courtyard, from the lights atop the various police cars that were now parked in odd positions surrounding the mansion. 

Crowded around the house, officers in blue suits stood, some taking notes, others talking in low voices to the various 'witnesses', all of whom seemed to give conflicting stories. 

Away from the limelight, the small crowd of Angel Investigations watched, Cordelia and Angel perched on the hood of the black convertible, the rest sitting around the truck, from further down the hill, as a dazed and beaten Donald was thrust into the back of one car, the door slammed in his face. 

Rebecca Hull snorted, jerking the lighted cigarette from her mouth and blowing the smoke in the demon worshiper's direction. "I hope he gets puts away for a long time and becomes some jack ass's bitch." 

Fred's cheeks warmed red, but Cordelia, swinging her legs over the car, only shot her a look. "You're not the least worried that he'll snitch on the whole prostitution gig you've got going?" 

The business strip club owner gave another disaffected shrug, taking another long drag of her cigarette before she tossed it on the floor, letting it grind on the gravel under her feet. "I've got a shit load of lawyers, and half the cops know what I do anyway. As long as it's in the house and my bank accounts remain Swiss I'm covered." 

Angel gave Cordelia a smile and Cordelia rolled her eyes. 

"There's still a couple things I don't understand," Fred said, eyes shifting between the couple on the convertible, the man in whose embrace she was keeping warm and the Englishman leaning on the truck next to them. "What's the click?" 

Everyone turned to look at Wesley, and the Englishman, a band-aid now pressed securely against the wound on his forehead, stood, balancing against the truck for support. 

"Your pondering is as good as ours, Fred. Lucky guess? Rebecca, obviously was not responsible for the deaths." 

"Yeah, glad you smarties figured THAT out," she muttered. 

Cordelia thwapped her upside the head. 

"HEY!" 

"Donald's been responsible the whole time," she mused, ignoring Rebecca's glare. 

"Based on what we know, Jennifer must have found out what was happening under Rebecca's nose by Jessie. He must have been involved some how." 

"And Donald found out, of course," Wesley breathed, eyes glinting. 

"And the tape?" 

"An excuse, I'm guessing," Cordelia inferred, drawing her legs up to her chest, hugging them to her, shivering slightly from the cold. 

Angel noticed the faint shiver, and immediately shrugged off the leather jacket, placing it on her shoulders. 

"Donald did invite her to the house once," Rebecca said, lighting another cigarette. "Said it was a birthday present. Paid for her and everything." 

"And when they had that, it was either shut up or put up," Gunn said, "before they got Jesse and her," he mimicked the action of a gun shooting with this thumb and forefinger. 

"So Jennifer was killed to be silenced," Fred said softly, her tone distracted as she frowned, eyes downcast. "Click." 

A small sliver of silence floated over the group, before Wesley pushed away from the car, and Fred yawned. 

"I better get her home," Gunn said, sliding off the truck. "She needs to sleep, and Cordy, maybe you should take a look at Wes's head." 

"Good idea," she said, nodding, wrapping herself tighter in Angel's leather jacket, breathing in the smell, the sense of closure slipping over her disconcerting. 

As he reached forward, gently helped her off the car, their eyes met, and in the brown intensity she saw pure emotion, regard and affection that made her breathless. 

She took a breath in, gave him her best 'sisterly' smile and squeezed his forearm, shrugging off his jacket and placing it in her place. 

"Thanks," she said with a smile. 

Rebecca stood about ten feet away, cocking her head. "Cordelia, right?" 

Distracted from the frown that pulled Angel's mouth down into a pout, Cordelia nodded. 

Rebecca jerked her head in one smooth motion. "Walk me to my car." 

"Isn't that Donald's?" 

"I have keys. I co-signed. It's my freaking car." 

"Oh-kay." 

Gunn started the truck up, waving to the group remaining, letting Fred lean on his shoulder. 

"See ya at the hotel," Fred muttered sleepily. 

Cordelia waved back, turned back to Angel. "I'll be right back." 

Angel said nothing, but his eyes continued to bore into hers, and she gave him a shaky smile, never leaving his gaze as she reached over and pulled Wesley toward her. "Advil," she said, pressing it into his fingers. "Vision Girl never leaves home without them." 

He gave her a grin and she smoothed a hand up the Watcher's cheek, before turning and walking with Rebecca to Donald's corvette ten feet away. 

"Just had a question," Rebecca began. The expression on her face made Cordelia pause curiously. The business woman looked almost… nervous. "I umm… I never made a secret over the fact that I kinda … had a crush on you…" 

"Ah…" Cordelia crossed her arms, stepped back, realized what she was doing, and stepped forward again, plastering on a grim smile. "I … yeah, … the hand repeatedly on my thigh was a pretty good indication…" 

"Right…" Rebecca wiped her bangs back, blowing her breath out… "But I also thought… you were pretty cool… so… I just… I… wanna stay friends." 

"Rebecca." 

"Yeah." 

"You know I don't swing that way, right?" 

Rebecca grinned. "Never say never, and yes," she said before Cordelia could protest. "I kinda figured about you and Angel." 

"Oh. Well… yeah." Cordelia gave a half hearted grin, massaging at her neck. "He's really pissed you fired him." 

The brought out a peal of laughter from Rebecca and Cordelia joined in, laughing as she looked back to the vampire who stood waiting by his car. 

At its end, Rebecca was still staring at her, and Cordelia straightened the grin out, letting out a sigh. "Well… I don't really … endorse prostitution, Rebecca… and as a detective… I can look the other way but-" 

"Doesn't mix right." Rebecca nodded, blushing before vaulting away from the car. "Just a thought." 

"It was a good one. If you ever… get away from that… give me a call." 

Rebecca paused, hand poised on the handle of her car. "How about I just lie about it?" 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "GoodBYE Rebecca." 

Rebecca grinned, pulling open the car door. 

"So hey." Rebecca paused, inclining her head. "You ever going to explain what's up with the tattoo?" 

Her eyes drifted down to her wrist, wrapping her other hand around it fondly, shrugging. "Some things in life you just can't explain, Cordelia. They just… are." When Cordelia arched a skeptical eyebrow, Rebecca added, "The Power Puff Girls are role models. They symbolize what we as women, as children should aspire to be." 

There was only so much bullshit Cordelia could take. 

"Got drunk one night watching the Cartoon Network with a tattoo buddy?" Cordelia asked flatly asked. 

"Pretty much." 

Cordelia nodded, and Rebecca gave her one last grin before she slid into her car and shut the door. 

As the car started, Cordelia shook her head, and walked away, towards the vampire and the Watcher who were still waiting. 

She really wanted to go home. 

-- 

Cordelia was right, he really was picking up Angel's bad habits a little too well. 

Wesley stood in front of the mirror, breathing out as he pulled on the jacket, smoothing down his hair, feeling nervous as hell and unsure why he was doing this at all. 

Face the past. 

Lorne had said it. 

And Wesley had run long enough. 

The knock on the door interrupted his self speculation, and almost grateful, he moved to the door, faltering when he found Fred standing nervously in the hallway, throwing him one of her cute little trademark half smiles. 

"Hey." 

"Fred." 

"You look better." 

"So do you." She did look better. Dressed in a summer dress, her hair let loose in curls, the small frames tinting her eyes, making them glint, the smile accenting the rosy cheeks, she still made Wesley's breath catch. 

Beautiful little Fred. 

"And Gunn?" 

Fred crossed her arms, smirking just a little as she remarked, "He's downstairs in the car. He would have come up but he wanted to give us some time alone. Something about respecting us and trustin' us." 

Wesley felt a slow, small smile creep up on his face. 

"He's been big on the trust issue lately," Fred said, nodding. "It's getting a little annoying." 

Wesley chuckled. 

"Are ya busy?" 

The hesitant tone made him pause, and he looked back, shifting his feet. "I… nothing that can't wait. What can I do for you?" 

She stepped into the apartment, hands fiddling nervously with each other before she turned, taking in a breath. "I was wondering whether or not to leave well enough alone, 'cause … I know how things can fester and… if you don't talk about it… or you know… write on walls… once in a while these things can build and before you know you're calculatin' pi in the middle of a train station where not even the homeless guy who smells will sit next to ya – so I'm gonna get to the point." 

He was silent. 

She took a nervous breath, and licked her lips, and finally burst with "Wesley… I know about… your feelins for me." 

His heart jolted, squealed and then dropped into the pit of his stomach, and Wesley froze, found the lump that came inexplicably to his throat allowed nothing more than, "Ah." 

"Ah… was thinkin'… and it's almost funny how … you know with Angel and Cordy and me and now it's me and you and Gunn and it's me who's Angel and Cordy's who's Gunn and you whose me and while I was thinkin' that I thought maybe if you were as screwed as me… then … maybe you might need help." 

On anyone else, the choice of words would have been a very malformed insult. On Fred's face, brown eyes flecked with concern and her body shifting nervously, it was the truest act of friendship. 

And that was all. 

He took a heavy breath, removing his glasses, reducing her form to a blur, and wiped them slowly. 

"I was hoping you wouldn't find out." 

"Wesley's it's okay. Ah mean… " 

"Fred, it's not appropriate…" 

"What and Gunn pawin' me in the lobby is? And Cordelia and Angel's moira issues in the trainin' sessions? That's appropriate? And what about how Cordy dresses some times? Lahk that mini skirt that one time my parents came? My mother almost put out a ruler!" 

"I get the point, Fred," He said, a smile coming to his face at Fred's flustered mannerisms. 

She blew out a long sigh, pushing her bangs away from her face and stepping forward, the light spray of the body wash floating toward him. "I don't think you do, Wesley. You're stronger that you give yourself credit for. And maybe that's your problem. You don't believe it. So many people have let you down and it hurt you so badly that… you can't do that to any of us. You're scared of it, and that's okay." Her hand reached up to cup his face, and his eyes closed, reaching up to pull her hand away. 

"Fred," he began, his voice gruff. "I appreciate your attempts. SO much. But… because of the nature of my feelings… I'm afraid you can't help." 

She looked almost hurt by that, but she seemed to understand, because even as her hands tangled together, she stepped back, giving him space. 

"Okay. I can respect that. If you get…" 

"I know," he said, smiling gently. "And believe me, I think the worst is over." 

She grinned. "That's good to know." 

A moment of weakness pervaded Wesley, and he found himself muttering, "If… Gunn hadn't asked you first…NO-" he immediately blanched at the surprised look on her face, and he shook his head, laughing nervously, "Please don't answer that." 

"Right… 'cause… I can't. I am with Gunn… and I like him. A lot." 

Wesley let out a breath, breathing it back in and the smile he gave her was sincere. "And you work for each other." 

The hesitant knock at the doorway distracted them both, and Gunn looked almost scared to walk in. 

"This ain't about not respectin' or trustin' or anything… hey Wes." 

Wesley smiled back, reaching forward to give the other man a long over due hug. 

"Right! We should get going," Fred nodded, moving to the doorway. 

"We're gonna go to Lorne's," Gunn said, motioning with his head. "Wanna come?" 

Wesley was silent, processing the information, mind suddenly working. 

"No," he said after a minute. "No thank you." 

"We'd like you to come, Wesley." 

Wesley gave Fred a smile. "Raincheck for tomorrow?" he suggested. "There's somewhere I have to be." 

The pair glanced at each other, then back at him, and finally nodded. 

"See you tomorrow, dog." Taking Fred's smaller hand in his, the large man led his prized girl away from the door, both offering Wesley affectionate smiles. 

As they left, Wesley wondered if Fred had had her desired affect. 

Despite the fact that he was left by himself in the apartment, Wesley, for the first time in a long time, did not feel alone. 

-- 

She swung carefully, every muscle working, shifting, the gleam of the sword matching the twinkle in her eye as she continued the movement, landing in an en guarde position, body straight. 

"Good." 

She nodded, panting slightly, reaching up to brush her infuriating bangs off her face before turning back to Angel, who now began to mimic her movements, the pair carefully continuing the planned moves. 

Silence was precious in these moments, as they continued the simple, but powerful arcs, thrusts, and parries in synchronous motion, Cordelia's breathing even, slow. 

Her focus was not just on herself but on her partner, as they continued to move, eyes shifting, mentally keeping the beats to make sure she was constantly in sync with him. 

At the end of the fifth set, Angel smiled at her, picking up the sticks and tossing one to her. 

"Remember what I told you about this," he said, coming behind her, making sure her stick was in the right position. 

But it wasn't the same. His chest brushed against her back, his arms encircled her loosely and her focus was immediately on his warm musky scent, on the brush of the sweater encased arms, on the tingle of her skin when his cheek brushed against hers for the scantest of seconds. 

Her eyes closed and she shuddered. 

He froze, pulling away, walking to retrieve his own stick as he asked flatly, "Something wrong?" 

"Yeah. It's not the same." 

He paused, and this time Angel's carefully constructed face of indifference gave way to something much more vulnerable, delicate… intense. 

"No, it's not." 

"We can't go back, can we?" 

He paused, hesitated, and then slowly shook his head no. 

Despite the somberness of the nature of the conversation, there was something utterly refreshing about the blatant honesty of it all. 

Finally able to breathe easily, she crossed her arms awkwardly, watching him. "So… if we can't… go back…" 

"Cordelia I don't know about staying in the same place…. That's not possible." 

"Yeah." She closed her eyes, heaving a dark sigh. "Angel," she began heavily. "You know why-" 

"I know." His voice was constricted. 

"I mean how long do you think we'd actually go before-" 

"Not long." 

It was an impossible situation, and they both knew it. Cordelia let the stick drop, hanging her head in resignation, "And after this conversation… we can't… ever mention this again until… certain… rules are fixed…" 

"And if I find- if I'm able to-" 

Cordelia gave him a grin. "Angel I told you I'd be here…" she trailed off, memories of agonies and pain sliding over her body and she briefly wondered whether she would in fact be able to keep that promise. 

To hell with that. She would do her damndest. 

He came forward, seeing her confliction, and tipping her chin up, he gazed into her eyes, making her very soul shudder for contact. 

"I'll find a way." 

She didn't dare hope to believe him, but she let a hand gently caress his cheek anyway, gracing him with a beautiful smile that made him smile back. 

She loved it when he smiled. 

A thought crossed her mind and she found herself laughing out loud. 

The smile on Angel's face faltered with confusion. "What?" 

"Just thinking. The big deal that everyone made about you being a stripper and you never stripped once." 

He froze, eyes narrowing. "Oh yeah." She giggled as he pondered that. "Kinda disappointed now. Rebecca fired me before I could." 

"Yeah, well, to be honest, I'm kinda glad." He quirked an eyebrow curiously. "You really think I'd let a bunch of hormone crazed sluts drool all over you?" 

"And if it had just been you?" 

The words made her pause, and with a devilish grin that seemed a little too close to Angelus for comfort, he squeezed her hands, let her go and walked to the tape recorder, sorting through the CD's. 

She waited, breath constricting slightly as a sensous beat pounded into the room and Angel turned, gyrating his hips in an almost exaggerated fashion. 

Cordelia clasped her hands to her mouth and laughed, suddenly delirously happy and helpless as the vampire reached for his shirt, peeling it off and tossing it. 

It landed on her head. Pulling it off, she saw him reaching for his belt, and for once, Cordelia didn't stop it. 

When the belt dropped, she only raised an eyebrow, and trying her damndest to be disaffected, she reached for her tank top, peeling it off, and tossing it on top. 

Angel's mouth dropped, his eyes no longer on her face, and she grinned, crossing her arms, perfectly willing to play. 

"Go on." 

"Uhhh…." 

"Here… I'll help." He gasped as her fingers jerked the zipper down in less than a second, finger nails underneath his waistband. "Damn. I'm getting good at that." 

"A little too good." The sensuality of the vampire was blatant as he gave her his trademark vampire smile, sliding hands down her shoulders, past the tight, small sports bra, and cupping her butt, bringing her closer. 

Brown eyes met hazel, and suddenly the laughter was gone, realization sliding through both vampire and seer. 

This was all they would have. 

Cordelia's eyes closed as she leaned forward, pressing her lips against his chest before leaning her cheek against it, feeling him hold her tightly around the shoulders as they began to dance, never letting each other go. 

And when one hand gently tilted her chin up, Cordelia allowed the kiss, her lips moving against his, eyes kept closed, as they kept moving to the haunting beat. 

It was the last dance. 

And the beginning of waiting forever. 

Odd, she thought, as her fingers entangled themselves in the nape of his neck and her tongue gently brushed against his teeth. It didn't seem that long. 

"I still think you didn't fake." 

"ANGEL!" 

-- 

He was putting the finishing touches on the brand new display when the door chime made him turn, and Gunn was unceremoniously pushed into the room, followed by Fred. 

Irritation swelled through him, and Lorne crossed his arms, clearing his throat. "We're closed. But… maybe you know that." 

Gunn was quiet, letting his breath out and then glancing back at his girlfriend. 

She gave him a furious nod. 

Turning back, he shifted his feet. "I'm sorry." 

"For what? Destroying my club? Letting my clientele get massacred?" 

"See? I knew he'd be like this-" Gunn flushed, moving back only to be pushed forward again by Fred. 

"You knew it wasn't going to be easy, Charles." 

"That's right!" Lorne said indignantly. "I want groveling! I want knees, buster! I want hysterics and pleading and that's right! Professional mourners might just do!" 

"How about the latest Cher doll?" Charles said. 

Lorne's jaw dropped. "With the sequined gown?" 

Reaching into the bag he had brought with him, Charles grinned. "Yup. AND! The FULL set of the Wizard of Oz Barbie collection." 

"Oooh. Gimme!" Lorne rushed forward, grabbing the back and sifting through the treasures. 

He paused, the smile freezing at the hopeful look on Gunn's face making him say coldly, "It's a start." 

Fred's smile faltered, but Gunn only stuck his hands in his pockets and said seriously, "I can't repay or buy back what happened here, Lorne. But as a friend, I'm… beggin' you to let me at least… try to make it up to you. Let me be a friend… at least jazz this place up a little." 

Lorne was quiet, shame flooding through him as he resisted the urge to see if Dorothy had come with the talking Toto. "Well…" 

"Make him sing," Fred whispered. 

Gunn shot her a warning glare, and Lorne grinned. "Perfect. I think… something of the Julie Andrews Victor/Victoria era." 

Gunn visibly blanched, but trudged obediently to the remodeled stage. "Payback's a bitch," he muttered. 

Fred grinned, and blew him an air kiss and when Lorne sat on the floor with his set of dolls, he found himself smiling. 

Ah… what the hell. Julie wasn't so bad. Hell… he thought, as the opening bars of music floated through the club, maybe I'll even juggle something. 

-- 

She was incredibly tired of blue. 

Faith had gained a new tattoo, a grimace, and longer hair in her time in prison, and it was almost disgusting how the news of a visitor always brought a jolt to her heart. 

Angel used to come regularly. For a long time he was the only one. 

He stopped coming a while ago… when he reappeared later, he had told her he had had some problems. 

It was then that she realized that Angel's feelings for the Queen C stemmed above friendship, as he proceeded to whine to her for over an hour about Cordelia's hostility to him, and even as her own heart was sinking, Faith proceeded to almost knock him over the head. 

Apparently the suggestion of the clothes buying had been a big hit. 

But the warden had told her it wasn't Angel waiting to speak to her. 

And Faith, now older, still burdened with guilt and at times bored silly in the pen, had no idea who it could be. 

Turning the corner, she caught sight of the man waiting and Faith stopped, her stomach sinking. 

Memories of what she did through him renewed themselves fresh in her mind. 

She had tortured him. Endlessly. 

She stopped, considered telling the warden to just take her back, not wanting to face him, or the pain seeing him caused, but it was too late, he had already seen her, standing up like the stupid old English gentlemen he was, waiting for her to come forward. 

Wesley was wearing slacks, his hair was longer, and as she came forward, she noticed something that the glasses did not hide. 

The body was more muscular, more graceful, and his eyes were harder, more grief stricken than before. 

For some reason that affected her, made her swallow down the pain as she stopped, looked through the glass, looking directly at him. 

He said nothing at first, only gave her a slight nod, a small smile and then lowered himself to the seat. 

What the hell was he doing here? 

Unsure, she sat down. 

He reached for the phone, and heart still in her throat, she found herself searching his face as she did the same, wondering if she had left scars. 

The plastic against her ear made her cringe, but the English voice that came through it was soft, without pretension. 

"Hello, Faith." 

"What are you doing here, Wesley?" she asked flatly. 

"I wanted to see how you were?" 

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, shifting in her seat. "Wesley in case you forget I tortured you and you kind of hate me." 

The sadness that flickered in his eyes was not the appropriate response, not the one she was expecting, anyway. Instead of making him leave, he only sat, completely silent, staring at him with those damned disconcerting eyes of his. 

When did he get so intense? 

"When I was five my father locked me in my closet," he began, and startled, her hand bearing the phone wavered, the voice coming through clear but … shaking. "I was afraid of the dark, you see, and my father simply could not tolerate a son of his being so wimpy as to be afraid of the dark. I was pushed into the closet and made to stay there for two days, until my mother finally let me out." Faith narrowed her eyes, her mouth pursed. "When I was ten I lost the fencing championship for my age group. My father told me I had lost it for him. I had shamed the family, and for a year I was made to go to school, come home, and study nothing but fencing. I have not touched a fencing sword since." 

"Wesley," she interrupted, now completely bewildered, not only at the words that were streaming from his mouth, but also at the no-nonsense tone he was using, "Why the fuck are you giving me a heart to heart?" 

He paused. 

Her words came out edged in anger, as Faith knew little else, and found, true to her therapist words, she lashed when she felt cornered. "Because you failed? Again? With me? You see yourself in me, Wes? Afraid some of that wacko shit might rub off?" 

"No," he responded, never flinching behind her words, and the soft tone again made her pause, stare at him as if she was seeing a stranger. "I was never afraid of you, Faith. I was afraid for you. I was more afraid of my own failure, too absorbed in proving my father wrong, in proving everyone wrong to give a damn about you. And for that… I apologize. As a Watcher, I did indeed fail, when I cared more about myself than you. You needed someone. I was the least fit." 

As the words poured from his mouth, she found her vision blurring, and feeling the sobs coming, Faith almost yanked the phone away from her ear, but his eyes, dark and vivid and mesmerizing, kept her pinned. 

"I'm here, and I do not deserve to be here, Faith. Once again I come to you out of my own selfish need." 

Her throat parched, she found her usual witty response dried up with it, and she shrugged, "Hey… whatever works." 

"I would like to… visit you regularly. Perhaps talk. You about the things you never wanted to face, me about mine… perhaps work through them together." 

Something flitted into the pit of her stomach, something that felt strangely like hope, and Faith fought it, not wanting to believe herself so fragile to be swayed by anything wimp Wesley could say. 

"And why this sudden need to bond?" she said hotly. 

"I need someone, Faith. And… perhaps you might need someone as well. Perhaps I might understand when no one else, not even Angel truly does." 

Silence was met with resolve, and Faith contemplated a number of responses, telling him to take the truth and shove it, getting up and stalking away for a more dramatic exit, trying to will the hate back… 

But the bastard was stronger than she gave him credit for, because her heart trembled and her body reacted, and she had to look away. 

Her fingers were now nervously fidgeting in her lap, and he sat all this time, so patiently. 

He needed her, huh? That was a new concept. 

Gathering her courage, she looked up again. 

"So how is the Dark Avenger, anyway?" she asked. 

When he stared, she smiled, slow and steady, and studying the response, he suddenly smiled back, and Faith felt her heart begin to beat, louder… 

It was the first time in a while she had been aware of her beating heart. 

"Fine. He's a stripper. Or was, actually. He got fired." 

"FIRED?! STRIPPER?!" Faith let out an astonished chuckle, leaning forward. "This I got to hear." 

Wesley grinned, leaning forward. "It's quite an interesting story." 

"I'm all ears." 

He began to talk, and Faith began to laugh, interrupting him with curious questions, catching up. 

And when he laughed, it warmed her. 

Studying him, she could think of worse ways to spend a Sunday afternoon. 

She would have to do this again. 

Soon. 

**FIN**   



End file.
